


Resolution

by Talaraine



Series: Re-Collection [3]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-13 19:32:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14119350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talaraine/pseuds/Talaraine
Summary: It's been years since the Reaper War ended. The threat is over and all is well. Right?......Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well here I am again. Couldn't stay away. I reckon a part of me will always dwell with these people and this galaxy and frankly, that ain't so bad.
> 
> For those who haven't read Resolve this may not make much sense, so I recommend you start there. 
> 
> Feedback is welcome! Keep me honest, folks. I will be making edits in this work from time to time, so apologies in advance.
> 
> Cheers. =)

At long last it would be hers. She couldn’t count how many hours and days had been spent plotting for this purpose or how many contacts she had to make to procure the necessary equipment and material to bring it to fruition. She’d had to use her Spectre status on one  occasion to strongarm a recalcitrant customs officer, something she hated doing as it endangered her anonymity, and had to chalk up favors to procure the required chemicals as well, but at long last...her time had come.

Fingers brown with the soil of another world parted the green leaves before her to behold her target. Red and bulbous with a dark green and black cap that streaked down the sides of its body, it dangled before her eyes, oblivious to its fate. Shepard stilled her breath as she spotted something similar concealed behind it. Two of them? How could she have missed that little detail? Never had it been so clear that she was out of practice.

A warmth she hadn’t felt since childhood curled her lips into a smile and she reached to gently take each of them into a palm. They weren’t as heavy as she would have liked. The differences in gravity and nutrients were simply too hard for her to calculate but they felt sturdy nonetheless...firm with a gentle suppleness that spoke of long days in the sun, of sweetness and reward. She pulled gently at them and with a simultaneous push of her thumbs parted them from the vine.

She beheld them for awhile as the voice of the breeze and Thessian flora took her back to another place, far away and long ago. Their scent begged her to pull them to her nose and inhale, bittersweet memories rising to fill her mind for another moment before she looked up to see Parnitha falling beneath the canopy. Had so much time passed? She rose and settled her precious cargo into a knapsack before rushing to clear away her tools and mess.

With the greenhouse sealed from the salt air she looked around once more to ensure all was as it should be and then headed for the main house at a joyful lope. She nodded to the servants who maintained the gardens before turning the corner to the entryway. She secretly thought they disapproved of her disheveled, dirty clothes here in this little pocket of perfection but didn’t care, parting the double doors to the main house with a wave to the guards before heading straight to the kitchen.

“Liara!” she cried in the direction of the stairs. She had no expectation she’d be heard the first time so she called again, “You gotta see this!” Didn’t matter, though; the staff would take the message to her directly, just as they moved aside and gave her counter space without her even having to ask. She licked her lips as she gazed at the irregular globes on the stone surface. It seemed almost unforgivable to harvest them; it might even approach the level of sin. Shepard reached for a small bowl and filled it with water to set reverently aside as penance.

One of them was smaller than the other; less developed, less ripe, likely not as quality...all excuses for the ravenous need that quickly took hold of her senses. At once she had a small knife in hand and parted it smoothly, separating the pieces to inspect its flesh. Ruby colored juice pooled beneath the raw-meat colored interior while pockets of white and green seeds appeared to her eyes.

Not bad. Not bad at all. But she needed to make sure, didn’t she? It would be the responsible thing to do, after all. Yep.

A quick slice later and a wedge was between her lips and caressing her tongue. She pulled it in and chewed slowly, every taste bud critiquing what splashed. Shepard inhaled and let the air fill her mouth before judging, but her smile never dissipated, only grew. She was fishing in cabinets and grabbing bottles and containers and plates when she sensed someone behind her. She paused for a moment in her furor, not wanting to jostle the hands that slid around her waist and pulled her close.

The swelling of Liara’s belly against the small of her back kept their bodies from melding together as they once might have, but the sensation made her sigh happily nonetheless. She turned her head, only just able to make out the face nuzzling the back of her neck before speaking.

“I think this is the one,” she said softly, even after all this time unsure Liara could possibly appreciate this pseudo-supernatural thing missing from her world. “Probably needs a lot of work still, but..”

Liara’s chuckle was warm against her sweat-slick skin. “Making excuses already?”

Shepard grinned crookedly and hid the blush that warmed her face. “Maybe. You be the judge,” she said while slicing a quarter of the larger, gloriously plump tomato on the counter into bite sized chunks before offering one between her forefinger and thumb. “It’s called a Black Krim.”

She turned and watched Liara eat it, enamored by the simple beauty of her face, rapt with concentration while she chewed.

When Liara’s eyes widened a fraction and focused on her with a bemused smile she knew it was good but couldn’t resist asking the question anyway, “So? Thoughts?”

“The texture is improved,” Liara replied with a slow nod. “Softer, sweeter, but still complex. Is it what you hoped for?”

Shepard didn’t answer at first, slicing the rest of the tomato into neat circles before unwrapping a white roll of moist cheese and doing the same. Liara moved beside her silently and she could feel the Asari’s probing gaze settle upon her. It was still hard to talk about home, even after years of work acknowledging those bitter memories, but things had slowly gotten better. Better thanks to the person beside her, the person she loved more than life.

“Not quite the same, no,” she finally replied. “Dad’s were family heirlooms, crossbred over decades. I may never get _that_ tomato again, but this variety seems promising.” She plucked two large leaves from a sprig of basil, layering the ingredients on small plates before dowsing them with rich, dark, balsamic vinegar. “Voila!” she declared, and cut both of the snacks into quarters before passing Liara a plate. They both picked up a section and Shepard touched hers to Liara’s in a mock toast. “To the old world.”

“To the new,” Liara countered, her other hand sliding down over her abdomen as a wistful expression passed her face.

“The new,” Shepard repeated lovingly before they both popped the treats into their mouths.

“Mmmn,” Liara intoned with real pleasure. “That is delightful. What is it called?”

“Caprese, I think,” she replied around a mouthful. “Glad you like it. I see more in our future as long as I can collect seeds.”

Liara took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “You should teach us how to care for these plants while you are gone.”

Shepard nodded and scooped the seeds from the other tomato, depositing them in the bowl of water she had set aside. “Already taken care of. Besides, I’ll only be gone a few days. No big deal.” When she felt Liara’s fingernails slide along her scalp from the back of her neck up and over her ears her lips curled into a smile, though she focused on drying her hands.

Liara’s voice was warm and soft near her right ear, somehow both clinical and sultry in a way only she could manage. “Do you have your speech memorized this time, or are you planning to ‘wing it’ again?”

She turned to look into her wife’s eyes and spun, sliding her hands around the Asari’s softening hips. “You could always go with me, you know.”

“And spoil your martial bonding event? I would only make things awkward. Besides,” Liara dropped her eyes apologetically, “I have only a few more arrangements to make before I am untethered for good. I should focus on that.”

“I know,” she said softly and with regret. The T’Soni house had a great number of assets after the war but almost as many detractors. Hero, savant or no, the daughter of Benezia T’Soni unnerved the halls of power and her return to Thessia lined them up in opposition. Liara’s first instinct, true to her bones, was to redeem her mother’s name no matter the cost. She had the gift for political warfare, of course, and assuredly the motivation...but Shepard’s advice came instead in the form of an age-old human idiom.

_Discretion is the better part of valor._

Liara’s purpose wasn’t homegrown politics. She wasn’t destined to be a Matriarch of her line or to guide her people publicly; she gave all of that up the day she went to Hagalaz. Instead, she needed to use tactics as appropriate to the battlefield as the boardroom, and that was to give your opponent exactly what they expected to see..the theatre of their own desires providing the distraction that allowed the achievement of your real objectives. It meant allowing ‘them’ to ‘win’. It meant liquidating T’Soni holdings one by one in protracted ‘battles’ that left the ‘victors’ with comfort in their own abilities and Liara’s failings. It meant the annihilation of what remained of her reputation; a chafing task in success but one that also allowed her to deftly maneuver  agents into every level of business and government. In the end she would have more influence on her homeworld as the Shadow Broker than she would have ever achieved as the daughter of a Thessian traitor but it didn’t sting less, and if anyone understood the pain of dying pride it was Shepard.

Liara sniffed delicately and lifted her eyes, steeled with quiet strength. “I am sending some information for Steven with you. I assume you will be seeing him while you are so close to his home?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a nod. “He’s coming down, too.”

Liara smiled genuinely. “Tell him I am sorry to miss it?”

“Sure thing.” Shepard cleared her throat and scratched the back of her neck, a tell she was well aware of but could stop no more than the tide when it came to _Liara_. “The uh...after parties for N7 graduates are sort of...legendary. You um...may hear some stories.”

Her wife chuckled at her nervous stammering, eyes sparkling with affection. “Am I supposed to be jealous?”

Shepard smiled with a sudden easy confidence and leaned in close to brush rose lips against violet. “Are you?” she asked with an arching brow.

That affection changed color before her eyes; the warmth of summer afternoons turning frost cold and ice sharp. “Well,” she said in a tone that was meaningfully shy of sensual, “If what I have isn’t enough to keep you home,” she continued, hands wandering into dangerous territory and eliciting a startled gasp from her, “And knowing that you are all being watched even in your most secure locations doesn’t daunt you, I simply present as point of evidence one Commander James Vega.”

Shepard rolled her eyes dramatically and snorted herself into a chuckle before drawling, “Uh...yeah…” There were few people in the universe as devoted to her. She was ‘blood to him’ and had been informed to that effect on more than one drunken occasion. Vega hid a tender sense of propriety beneath vast casings of muscle and dirty looks. He’d defend her to the end, verbally or physically; but as he’d grown into himself over the course of his training he’d also picked up the habit of telling her when she was being an ass and would undoubtedly pummel anyone tempting her away from virtue while on her visit.

“Nothing to worry about, then,” she resigned with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Anyway,” Liara explained, her smile brightening at the change of subject, “We will have our own adventure when you return.”

Shepard fairly glowed with pride at the words, her palms sliding over the globe of Liara’s abdomen. A world of possibilities lit behind her eyes just like every moment she ever gave in consideration of the child growing there. Their second. This one with all the protection they couldn’t provide the first. All the peace. All the love. A future. She pulled Liara close again, unable to get enough of that warmth, her fingertips gliding back around those hips and over the sensitive small of her back just so she could pull a similar gasp from her beloved’s lips.

“Our greatest adventure yet,” she whispered before pulling the rest of Liara’s breath away in a deep kiss.

The meld encompassed them effortlessly. There was no need to ask permission anymore; it was unspoken but agreed upon with every fiber of their beings. Together, entwined with them in the fathomless but welcoming void that was their inner world was their daughter Athena, who knew her name before she was even born. She was quiescent but sensate, her essence stirring joyously at the arrival of their trusted presence.

It’d been a long road to get here. Each of them had been forced to use the tools of their mortal enemy to survive the war and as it was said, looking into the dark meant the dark looked also into you. They’d both done things they weren’t proud of; things that crossed the line, things that made them little better than the people they’d fought. It’d taken time and patience for them to reveal that shared guilt to one another and longer to forgive themselves but there had never been a single moment of doubt about _why_ and that had carried them through. They fought each and every day for each other and for _what could be,_ so it was ironic that the one thing Shepard had the hardest time letting go of was the unasked and uninformed impregnation of their first child.

She’d forgiven it at first...of course she had. What was that compared to the end of the world? But it began to rankle as time wore on, as she was forced to delve within herself and heal old wounds, come to terms with what she had done, what had been asked of her and what had been taken from her again and again by the Batarians, by the Alliance, by the Council and by the Illusive Man. To have Liara take as well without asking began to seem similar in scope; their first child Benezia’s premature end simply an additional cut to bleed her after she was dry.

It wasn’t that Shepard couldn’t see the Asari’s point of view in that spur of the moment instinct. Liara made the decision because she didn’t believe Shepard would agree to the act when they both might die in the next few hours or might force her to stay on the Normandy during the fight of their lives if she had. No, whether or not Shepard agreed with the choice she could still understand the reasoning, could understand why Liara chose _any_ potential future over the end of _everything_ ; but that didn’t make the decision _right_ and it sure as hell hadn’t boded well for the delicately balanced relationship they tried to build in the aftermath.

Perhaps that’s why Liara consented so quickly to the dissolution of her house. Perhaps it’d been a sacrifice on the altar of her commitment to their relationship. In the meld Shepard could sense Liara’s conflict about it but the one thing that was perfectly clear was the Asari’s intent to make things right; which then made Shepard feel guilty about any judgment at all. What was this when measured against the effort Liara put forth just to return her to _life_ after Alchera? The haunting hypercritical judgement of past deeds was as cyclical and unending as a hurricane and it was in the eye of that swirling dance of emotion that they finally found a lasting truce.

They’d both done the best they could under the circumstances. They’d both made mistakes. They’d both paid for the future with a piece of their souls...but that transaction was now complete. Should they squander it now that they held it in their hands? Never. They spent months in their secret cabin together; sleeping, eating, talking, living and loving. They took the time they’d been so long denied to put themselves back together piece by piece. They sometimes argued, sometimes cried and often nursed their own wounds; but they were never ever _alone_.

When the relays finally opened they decided to abandon their hideaway and make their way to Thessia to settle in at Liara’s ancestral estate. Shepard soon talked to one of the agents beating down her door for appearances and they both began their new ‘careers’ in the spotlight of the galaxy, all the while plying their secret trade as Shadow Brokers. Well, Liara’s secret trade anyway. Shepard’s ‘protection detail’ had proven a bit redundant, what with the House guards and the river of intelligence keeping them weeks ahead of any potential threats.

But Shepard had her hobbies. She had the greenhouse, her ship models, combat simulators (her opponents only knew who kicked their can by the name ‘JustanAlt’), her exercise regimen and meditation. She stayed in touch with the gang regularly and they’d had get-togethers, including an epic redux of shore leave in a swank hotel erected near Anderson’s old apartment on the fully repaired Citadel (Finally relocated back home in the Serpent Nebula where it belonged). She kept an eye on all things Spectre related too, of course, but was careful to keep them at arm’s length.Try as she might she was still sometimes tempted to get involved when she shouldn’t. _That’s what Ashley’s for_ had become her mantra. Provide intel only, she told herself, no more click-bang-fu.

It may have taken a while but Shepard eventually came to realize that for the first time she was truly happy about her life, her marriage and the world into which she was about to bring a new wriggling blue baby. Liara’s soul echoed that sentiment in their meld; a sense of pleasant, calm contentment wrapping around them all like a soft blanket, but it wasn’t long before Shepard could feel her wife’s mirth begin to bubble like a spring. She opened her eyes and saw Liara’s crinkled with that same laughter, shaking her head ruefully.

“What?” Shepard asked with a broad grin.

“Nothing,” she answered enigmatically, then relented, “It is good to see you so excited about going back to Earth.”

“Yeah,” Shepard said, sobering a bit. “It _is_ good, isn’t it?” She paused, struggling to find the words to match her feelings, something they’d worked tirelessly on together. “I guess…” she started, “I guess it’s pride. We’ve come back pretty well down there and to see Vega become an N7 it’s…” She took a deep breath. “It’s like passing the baton.”

Liara caressed Shepard’s cheek. “Proof that your job is done?” she asked tenderly.

Shepard nodded “I suppose so,” she said before a glint of mischief appeared in her eyes. “Means I can enjoy the lap of luxury in my old age. No doubts, no regrets.”

Liara rolled her eyes expressively and retorted, “Shall I begin looking into hospice for you so soon?”

“God, I hope not!” Shepard laughed. “Who else is gonna be able to keep up with our little monster while you’re at work?”


	2. Chapter 2

Sand. Warm sand between her toes. She’d forgotten what it felt like and it was glorious. So was the sun on her back, the salt in the air and the sound of the waves; all doing their bit to unwind the tension in her shoulders. She’d never really taken a vacation before, oddly enough. Between her father, then Cerberus, then her father again followed by the war, there was very little time to appreciate anything but momentary success. Life hadn’t slowed much after the war either, what with Shepard’s third bloody coming, and Miranda’s new stint as a Shadow Broker was no slouch in the competition.

She'd blinked and a year and a half was gone without stepping foot off the Icarus, her relative seclusion only broken by visits from Jack and a couple of days away for Shepard and Liara’s wedding. Another year disappeared after the relay network was completely restored and the Icarus was refitted with the best tech they’d gleaned from the data cache; quickly followed by the relocation of that most valuable treasure in the galaxy to the center of it, an unforgiving, virtually uninhabitable place that defied every sensor ever created.

Now finally, six months later, the carefully constructed lattice of agents woven across the galaxy knew their jobs and how to communicate properly without getting caught, were able to be paid with just as little notice and best of all, some clever AI work by Liara on Glyph automated most of the repetitive tasks. They had a redundant hierarchy of cells, modeled much after the Cerberus organization, that was flexible enough to function on its own for awhile if need be...

Which meant she now had time to walk down a lovely beach on Virmire, populated with small groups of vacationing high-rollers. Still, despite the hundreds of people around her and the lingering looks she received as she wandered, Miranda felt alone. It was a strange contrast to the _connection_ she felt to the rest of the galaxy when seated at the broker console. The communication with so many people in so many places gave her a window into their worlds, a glimpse into the lives of countless others that perked both her interest and imagination. When she logged off at the end of her endurance it was to the quiet thrum of the Icarus and the growing emptiness of her own existence; at least until Jack strode in to blissfully assault it….and her.

Her sand-burned footsteps eventually led her to a quaint beach bar where she ordered a drink and checked her messages again, the last of which from her intermittent lover having only three words.

 

**_Gonna be late..._ **

 

Nothing since and that was two days ago. Wasn’t especially unusual for Jack of course; ever since she’d left to work on Omega her missions called her away randomly. The message she’d sent this time was really quite short, though. Something must have came up last minute. She scolded herself for worrying but did anyway.

“Now, why does a woman in one of the most beautiful places in the galaxy look like she’d rather be anywhere else but here?”

Miranda turned toward the voice on her right and found an older man gazing at her over the edge of a work tablet. His expression was curious as he set the tablet down, reaching up with the same hand to scratch the beginnings of a grey beard on his cheek.

“Why is a man in one of the most beautiful places in the galaxy working? At a bar, no less,” Miranda fired back with a friendly smirk.

The man grinned crookedly and gave a nod. “Well, if you had the choice of working with a stuffy old wall as a backdrop or..” He turned and gestured widely at the panorama, “This, which would you choose?”

She took a sip of her wine before answering. “You don’t find it difficult to concentrate?”

“Heh,” he replied before taking a drink of his own dark liquor. “At my age I’ll lose focus anyway. Might as well put a smile on my face while I’m at it.”

“You live here, then?”

“Oh no, nono. Far too expensive I’m afraid. Just here on assignment. I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

“An assignment, here? Counting coconuts are we?” she asked archly.

The man chortled in his chest and shook his head. “No accounting for me, thank you very much. I’m here researching what happened to the Berkman boy.”

Miranda blinked in mild confusion. “Berkman boy?”

“Ah, probably weren’t here for that I suppose. Boating accident about two months ago. The whole family was lost but one. Tragic.” The man’s face illuminated, “The only survivor was a young lad named Aemon, almost three years old. Remarkable, just remarkable. He was rescued from the the wreckage after it was spotted by an air patrol.”

“That’s...terrible, I’m sorry to hear it,” Miranda commiserated. “But why does that bring you here?”

“Well, you see,” he explained as if he’d waited all day for someone to ask him that very thing, “The boy should have drowned. They found him inside the boat with only a few pockets of air. When they brought him back, the attending physician made a startling discovery!” He paused long enough to take another drink, clearly reveling in his role as storyteller. He looked around a bit conspiratorially before the grande finish. “The boy, you see….had gills.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Gills. Really. You’re putting me on.”

The man shook his head and slid the workpad into his hands. With a few strokes he pulled up photographs and displayed them to her proudly. “It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. We’ve collected all the data and samples, now we just have to figure out what happened. _How_ it happened.”

It was ridiculous. It couldn’t be true, but as she slid image after image before her eyes they appeared to be authentic. “What will happen to the boy?” she asked distractedly before handing back the pad.

The gentleman shrugged, “He’s perfectly healthy. Might have some social issues, of course, but he’s going to live with family, so he should be fine.”

“Were the parents aw..” she started, but was stopped by a notification on her Omni.

 

**_Hey, I’m at the room. Where are you?_ **

 

Her fingers flew over the haptic keys.

 

**_On the beach, of course. Talking with boys._ **

 

“And there it is,” the man said wistfully as he watched her. “A smile at last.”

A blush crept across her cheeks at the revelation. Had she really grown so easy to read? She lifted her eyes and held out a hand. “I’m terribly rude. Miranda Lawson.”

“Robert Webb,” he responded with a handshake and a briefly distant gaze, “Lawson….I know that name.”

She smiled again and nodded, but lowered her voice a smidge. “Let’s just keep that between us for now? Vacation and all.”

“Of course, of course,” he agreed readily and ordered another drink.

Miranda did the same, a whiskey straight up.

Robert laughed. “Wine _and_ whiskey? You must have quite the evening planned!”

She chuckled and sipped her wine. “It’s for Jack.”

“Lucky man,” he said, nodding sagely.

“Would you mind sending me the results of your study here? My curiosity is piqued.”

“Oh? I don’t recall you being interested in genetics, though I obviously don’t know you personally. May I ask what field you’re working in these days?”

She shrugged and tilted her head from side to side. “Dabbling in a bit of pathology at the moment. Here’s my contact information.”

While their comps shared info they continued to chit-chat, but a minute later Robert looked up toward the beach and then, suddenly, returned his gaze back to his workpad. Just after, Miranda felt fingers pull her hair back from the right side of her face and then warm wet lips on her throat just beneath the jaw. Her eyes closed and she drew in a deep breath, tilting her head to give those lips more access.

She smiled widely and spoke without ever parting her eyelids. “What took you so long?”

The lips left her skin and teeth bit her earlobe before Jack's words hummed into her ear, “Work’s a bitch. What can I say?”

Miranda’s hand slipped behind Jack’s legs and slid up loose fitting cargo pants to her naked waist while she confronted Robert’s odd look. The fingers of her other hand found the highball and presented it to an eager Jack, who killed it in a swallow before putting it back on the bar.

“Jack? This is Robert. Robert, this is...Jack.”

“Chatting up fossils, huh,” Jack drawled, looking at the scientist. “Looks like I showed up just in time.” Her expression turned predatory, “Want a threesome, baby?”

Her words set the man to scowling before Miranda intervened. “So territorial! If you’re that worried about my virtue perhaps you might have arrived on the day you said you would.”

Jack narrowed her eyes. “Hey, if you wanna bone him I can come back in five minutes...give you both time to get dressed and shit.”

Miranda arched an eyebrow and Jack clenched her jaw. Robert used the standoff to excuse himself, and Jack helped herself to his empty barstool.

“Hard week?” Miranda asked after a moment, tight-lipped.

Jack grunted noncommittally and planted a finger by her highball where the bartender could see it.

Miranda spun on her stool to take in the waves and sighed. “No better place to let it go, then.”

When Jack said nothing after downing another shot, Miranda’s left hand reached out to tug Jack’s stool around to face the sun-brightened beach. Her smile disarmed the dark look on the woman’s face after a moment and her lover stretched, unconsciously highlighting her physique. Miranda’s eyes lingered there, appreciating the gifts her tech had provided. Jack stood around 180 centimeters tall after her full body upgrade and her mass had been increased significantly with muscle for combat. All her tattoos had been replicated, of course, but new ones had been added to reflect who Jack was now, complete with ink that could light up on command in a palette-full of colors.

Not all the improvements were for Jack’s benefit alone, though. Her hair fell between her shoulder blades today in a rich, dark ponytail just for Miranda. It too could act on command, letting Jack run bare and battle ready most of the time while growing that one simple pleasure for her whenever they were together. Miranda curled the ebon tail around her fingers while her nails brought goosebumps to the back of Jack’s neck. That simple touch unwound the tension in the woman further, finally producing a long sigh that brought Jack’s eyes to hers with something a little less than fire in them.

“No big deal,” Jack said. “Damn scavengers is all. Came at us on purpose couple days back. Think Omega 4 won’t kill ‘em just ‘cause one lucky sonofabitch brought back some booty.”

Miranda shrugged matter-of-factly. “Could always let Darwin’s law take care of it. Why does she even care who goes through that relay?”

Jack chuckled. “Oh no, I know _that_ tone of voice. You know I can’t talk about this shit with you.”

Miranda smiled crookedly. “How do you know I don’t already know all about it?”

“Easy,” she replied with a frustrated glower. “You wouldn’t ask. Lay off.”

Lawson chuckled and winked, relenting before she got Jack all stirred up again. “Alright then, want to go for a ride? I’m sure we can find someplace less….”

“Crowded?” Jack finished for her with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “What’s the fun in that? Nobody knows who you are.”

When Miranda gave her most innocent look she just rolled her eyes. “What, you _told_ him? Christ, Miri. All that work for anonymity and you let it go for a homeless geezer?”

“ _Not_ homeless,” Miranda corrected her. “And I wanted his research. They don’t just hand that out to random people, you know.”

“Really?” Jack growled. “I thought this was supposed to be vacation.”

Miranda slid her hand down to Jack’s, then she stood and pulled her from her seat to stand face to face before looking into her eyes and purring, “It _is_ vacation, I just got a little bored waiting for you.” A final smile and warm kiss melted the rest of Jack’s reticence and they slid their arms around one another and pulled close.

Jack whispered the closest thing to an apology she could muster. “I eh...got a lil somethin’ for ya.”

When Jack ground her hips against her own, she felt a pulsing bulge there that made color rise on her cheeks before she laughed out loud. “ _That_ is not little.”

Jack laughed too and they looked into each other’s eyes with furtive fondness before she replied, “Not cheap either. I’m definitely gettin’ a turn.”

Miranda’s hands wandered lower to cup Jack’s rear and she grinned before lazily kissing her. “Count on it.”

 

She woke entangled in Jack’s warm limbs, the sheets thrown off early in the evening to feel the sea breeze flowing through the windows. It was still dark but Miranda perceived the faint hues that heralded sunrise just the same. They’d played hard through much of the night, taking each other to their limits and sometimes...just a tad beyond. It was an odd thing, their shared sado-masochism. Sometimes, they’d found, in order to stay whole you needed to occasionally _break;_ and in each other they’d found a safe place to explore the phenomenon to its fullest.

They’d collapsed in the wee hours, shuffling off the worries and tension that wove through their lives, and Miranda wished she could just stay still and sleep but it wasn’t to be. She’d never slept well with another person in the room and likely never would; some habits were just too deeply ingrained. She lay there for awhile instead, sleepily enjoying the way their bodies fit together. Jack’s hair was loose and flowing, her arm thrown over Miranda’s bare chest and her face tucked under Miranda’s chin. Her soft breathing was barely audible over the movement of the curtains and the surf outside but it was warm against her throat and very pleasant. If she ever needed blackmail against the mercenary she needed only reveal just how much Jack tended to cuddle when she slept.

Her workpad was pulsing slowly with a notification in night-mode from the side table and she studiously ignored it in favor of watching the curves of Jack’s body take shape in the rising light. Native birds began calling as they hunted crustaceans outside. Soon the resort would begin to bustle and by extension the rest of the galaxy (she could pretend everyone out there was sleeping for just a minute, couldn’t she?) but this moment was hers; sound, sensation and emotion over data, holograms and haptic interfaces.

Miranda lazily slid her fingers over the skin of Jack’s shoulder and back gently, brushing cleverly arranged tattoos that once disguised nasty looking scars. Her skin was clear of those red and irritable puckers now; they were only a memory, no matter how obstinate. While full body replacement was all the rage now, Jack’s desire for it continued to surprise her. She’d had logistical reasons of course, given her profession and employer, but Jack was a biotic and a damned good one. She didn’t really _need_ neuro-chem enhancement, artificial plus-grav bone lacing or the ability to see into the ultraviolet and infrared spectrum but then...you never really knew, did you? It might come in handy someday.

Still, those alterations should have been against everything Jack stood for. The woman had been sawed on for years to make her a better biotic and hated her captors for it...only to continue the process later herself. How did _that_ work, psychologically? It was a mystery on top of all the others with which she struggled when it came to her lover. If they had more time together she might sort it out, but if Miranda was honest with herself it was really her own fault. Until she had suggested this vacation Jack had been the only one reaching out while she stayed buried in her work.

They’d fought about it on more than one occasion over the last year, each confrontation worse than the last. Jack would inevitably be offended that Miranda couldn’t just drop everything and have some fun with all her money and fame. Miranda would then point out the hypocrisy of that statement..Jack’s own choice of employment was just as superfluous when all she had to do was _stay_ there with Miranda. It’s not like Jack needed the money, was it, if they were together? It became such a dreadfully common argument that Miranda began to mark time by it and on one of those last nights after Jack left in a rage, when the silence had its own accusatory voice, she realized something needed to change...or Jack might eventually decide not to return.

She’d gotten angry then. How could Jack not understand why being a Shadow Broker deserved her attention? She was shaping galactic events every single day! No matter how many people Jack could kill she’d never have that effect, could never know the responsibility that came with such power. How could she turn her back on such a task for frivolity? And yet at the same time she could see how callous the thought process was, how demeaning it was to the partner upon whom she’d slowly and steadily come to rely on like oxygen.

She couldn’t remember just when it had happened, this codependency she’d previously and publicly ridiculed; but in the rare moments when she lifted her gaze from her work there was only one face she longed to see. Those flashing eyes, that smokey voice, the feeling of rough and tattooed hands upon her body; Jacqueline Nought was dangerous and unpredictable….and everything she craved. She was the opposite of the order Miranda so carefully constructed around herself; a glimpse at the beating heart of the universe she spent so much time tending and a reminder of the horrible, terrifying war that nearly ended all of it. They’d both earned a reprieve without a doubt; but instead of Jack abandoning her for whatever pleasures could be had in the lawless kingdom of Omega she kept coming back to the Icarus again and again. For her. When the realization crystallized she’d arranged their vacation...a tardy apology and an attempt to mend the crumbling bridge between therm.

Jack stirred in her arms, breath hitching as she drew closer to wakefulness, so Miranda shifted slightly and held her closer while she rose from those inky depths. From time to time she still woke in a sweat with one of her student’s names on her lips, a hell she never quite escaped despite her well-worn nonchalance; but being warm and held soothed it away better than questions or concern in Miranda’s experience. It was, now that she thought about it, likely the reason for Jack’s constant state of ‘upgrade’...a poisonous need to never _fail_ again. Holding her while she slept was the one thing she could do for Jack that the woman couldn’t stubbornly resist or argue against, something that found its way to the core she so jealously guarded from everyone. Fortunately this had been one of her better nights; she heard a luxurious yawn in her ear instead of a choked whisper. Miranda pulled free to lie face to face with her while Jack rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning,” she said with a quiet smile.

“Hey you,” Jack mumbled, reaching over to pull a lock of untamed hair behind Miranda's ear. “Surprised you’re still in bed.”

“Mmn,” she replied, “I get little enough time with you, as is.”

Jack chuckled deep in her chest. “Gettin’ soft on me?”

“After last night’s performance?” Miranda asked, bringing a laugh from Jack. “Consider me hopeless.”

“Thought you might like that,” Jack purred. “You sore?”

Miranda pursed her lips and shook her head. “You?”

“Nope.”

“Round two?” Miranda breathed hopefully before nipping Jack’s bottom lip.

“Absofuckinglutely,” Jack replied, then when her stomach growled obscenely she added, “After breakfast.”

“Deal,” Miranda agreed with a grin before untangling herself and sliding off the bed. She bent down and picked up a long length of single-tail whip from the floor, coiling it expertly in her hands before turning with an arched, questioning brow. It was met with a slow nod, Jack’s eyes already darkening with need, so she set it on the side table rather than putting it away.

“Rough week indeed,” she said thoughtfully while moving to the en suite. Jack predictably didn’t respond, so she turned on the water to heat and pulled her hair into a top-bun. “Why don’t you order us some food?” She turned again, feeling Jack’s eyes upon her from where she lay. At her silent regard she sighed, “Right...fine, anything you want.” Jack grinned like a kid and Miranda shook her head. “Some protein at least!”

“No problem,” Jack said, waving with her hand to bring up the holoserv.

“Jack...” Miranda whispered loudly, alarmed at the sight of what would be visible to the clerk, then raised her voice further when she didn’t answer. “Jack! Clothes for shit’s sake!”

Jack only licked her lips naughtily as the holo screen materialized. She gave her the finger while she ordered everything wrong by dietary standards, too, until Miranda gave up and stepped into the shower.

The stuttering from the desk clerk was charming and Jack was clearly reveling in it, at least until they both heard the tell-tale sound of ordnance flying. They both hit the ground simultaneously, Jack cursing all the while. The nearby explosion was deafening, a deep bass shaking the foundations of every structure around them. They were scrambling for clothing in an instant and crouching down behind the bed to check weapons in the next.

“What the hell?” Jack cried derisively at the holoserv, “What’s going on?”

“I....don’t...please hold!” came the return voice, gunfire audible over the link before it went dead.

Jack looked at Miranda, whose eyes were glazed in frantic calculation. “Tell me you got something, Cheerleader.”

“Not much,” she replied quickly, scouring her memory before peering out the window at two armed shuttles making a line for their building. “Most likely Marauders looking for a quick score. They’ve been pissed since this place went straight....and made a profit.”

Jack snickered and she holstered her sidearm demonstrably. “Raiders? Okay then, whattaya wanna do? Have a shuttle nearby?”

Frustration filled her. The very first time they’d had time to themselves in years was about to be cut short by at worst a hostage situation and at best the constabulary and endless interviews. The Alahanku resort was bankrolled by an investment conglomerate eager to recoup their losses from the war and determined to protect it from the lawless organizations that previously held so much sway in the Traverse. That meant they had security forces, a lot of them, but that wasn’t the issue. Those troops would be forced to fight right among the guests they needed to protect and that seldom ended well for the customer. No, if this was to be handled expediently, the resort needed assistance. Biotic assistance.

Miranda shook her head, cocked her own weapon, then turned to look into Jack’s eyes. “Screw the shuttle.”

Jack’s mouth hung agape for a moment, shut, then opened again, “Are...you saying what I think you’re saying?”

They looked at each other for a long moment before they both laughed. Miranda threw her wet hair back over her shoulder. “I’ve been pent up for a bloody year. I’m not about to cut my vacation short while the local yahoos get this sorted.”

Jack caught on quick. “Could take days.”

“We’d have to rebook and reschedule,” Miranda agreed.

“And I guess it doesn’t matter if we’re on the news because everyone pretty much knows we’re here now anyway,” Jack said with a accusatory smirk.

It was pointless to argue that Webb was about as likely to reveal her presence here as sprout another head, so Miranda shrugged and fired right back. “Well, your naked chest is pretty much a dead giveaway, isn’t it?”

Jack’s smirk grew and she chuckled, sliding a hand behind Miri’s head to pull her close for a bruising kiss. Once parted, she grinned and whispered, “Love you.”

Miranda smiled back and nuzzled her nose, “You, too.”

The objective was relatively simple for a biotic team of their calibre. All they had to do was gauge the enemy’s strength, then engage and push them off the beach and into the dunes behind the resort where the corp’s militia could contain or eliminate them with less collateral damage. The corp was still almost certain to shut the place down but Miranda suspected that management’s gratitude for a little assistance might play in their favor.

They got back to their room several hours later with lacerations, burns and bruising but also an upgrade to the penthouse of one of the undamaged towers and a comped receipt for their stay. There’d still been casualties but numerous holovids taken of the fighting showed the pair of them to be deadly but precise; a textbook display of martial prowess focused on saving lives. It wasn’t long after those vids spread far and wide that they were identified as part of Shepard’s Intrepid Few, and that’s when the requests for photos and autographs began. Jack in particular drew attention with her unique look and seemed to settle into the unfamiliar role of hero with surprised pleasure for much of the afternoon.

 

Miranda chuckled after shutting the door to their rooms later. “Well that was...something.”

Jack began stripping off her dirty clothes, leaving a trail toward the shower. “Was fun! Definitely didn’t think we’d be revisiting the old days like _that_.”

Miranda smiled thoughtfully, her memories vivid. “Yeah, it felt good to sort of _stretch_ again, didn’t it? You were amazing, by the way.”

Jack stopped and turned at the compliment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Seriously. That was just about the finest fighting I think I’ve seen from you. You were disciplined when required and a hellcat when it wasn’t. Don’t know what Aria’s teaching you up there but whatever it is, don’t stop.”

Jack said nothing, just smiled quietly and dropped her gaze.

“Wait,” Miranda said with a wry grin. “Are you blushing just now?”

At once the look was gone, Jack’s eyes flashing with her usual disdain. “Nah, just threw up in my mouth a little,” she declared before stepping into the shower.

“Mmmnhmm,” she murmured in amusement before pouring herself a drink and sitting down to look out at the ocean. There before her on the table was her workpad, still patiently flashing. They were fairly dying of hunger and wanted to head up the coast for a meal but she had a few moments. Miranda relented and pulled it to her lap to have a look before cleaning up.

Along with a host of communiques was the data Dr. Webb had promised. She swiped her fingers across pages and pages of information, skimming them briefly before she narrowed in on the blood work. He was a healthy boy, exceptionally so. There was nothing to indicate any aberration here, so she skipped over to the DNA report for a quick look as Jack was already coming out of the bathroom.

“All yours,” Jack said, running a comb through her hair and heading to her backpack. She managed to finish dressing before she realized Miranda hadn’t moved, then snapped her fingers in the air to get her attention. “Miri? You’re gonna shower, right? We prolly need to get going unless you wanna crack heads for a table.”

But Miranda couldn’t breathe. Her eyes and fingers double, triple checked what she was seeing, ignoring Jack’s questioning looks for the moment. She’d been warned, had kept watch so long for this possibility it seemed a phantom of her imagination...but here it was. She looked up at Jack sadly, a universe of inexplicable, unpredictable dread opening up beneath her feet. She felt her eyes actually begin to well with sodding tears before she shut down her emotions with all the fury of her former Cerberus self.

Jack must have seen the emotion transform her because it was echoed in her own expression.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a voice that was suddenly spurious.

“Nothing,” Miranda replied with all the warmth of an ice storm. “Looks like I’m going to need to head back anyway.”

“Like fuck,” Jack growled after a moment of stormcloud rage.

Miranda stood and locked eyes with her, “I can’t do this now, okay?

“Then when??” she yelled, her arms thrown wide and skin already glowing blue. “You can’t keep doing _this_ forever!”

“Jack!” Miranda shouted in return then lowered her voice, her hands encouraging calm. “Just trust me, alright? This is really important.”

 “It's always important!” she shouted, hands on her hips. She took a deep breath and clenched her jaw, trying to keep her cool. “Fine. Tell me what’s going on.”

Miranda still clung to the hope she was mistaken and couldn’t risk panicking Jack. Hell, she couldn’t risk panicking anyone. She needed to figure this out and come back with facts rather than supposition. Miranda sighed and softly shook her head, then watched the emotions play across Jack’s face; anger first, then for a brief moment most might have missed, sadness. When the indifference settled in, Miranda knew it was over.

“You know what?” Jack snarled, “Do what you gotta do. If you ever decide to _wake up_ you know where to find me.” She walked around the room snatching up her things and shoving them in her backpack, swearing angrily under her breath all the while.

“Jack,” Miranda protested guiltily, digging her fingernails into her palms. “Jack, please, I just need a little time.”

Jack slung the pack over a shoulder and straightened with a scathing smirk, “You got all the time you need. Just don’t come back ‘til you’re actually finished with this shit, though. I’m done.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wait a minute, you can’t actually expect me to _quit_.”

Jack paused after opening the door and looked back at her sincerely, “No. I actually don’t.”

Then she was gone, the door not quite shutting on her way out.


	3. Chapter 3

 

“Why don’t we talk about this in private,” the towering Krogan said with a gravelly voice and steady stare.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Aria replied coolly from where she reclined on her couch shaped throne. “You already know the answer.”

“Fine, then just humor an old man awhile. It’s been a long time and I’m in the mood for some company.”

Aria sighed and tilted her head back to look up at the towering ceiling of her nightclub. “Fine,” she groaned, “Everyone else, out.”

As various guards and lackeys for both parties filed through the door, Aria nodded to a sturdy padded bench made for those who might otherwise damage her favorite furniture. The Krogan’s eyes were on the bar, though. “Help yourself,” she said, allowing a half smile now that the room was empty.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, his heavy footsteps a bass counterbeat to the still audible music from downstairs. “Glad to see you back on that chair. Didn’t think you had another run in ya.” He didn’t turn to see her smirk as he poured.

“I think the only way either of us will give up our seats is when we’re carried away in a bodybag,” Aria said with a tired shake of her head.

“You want somethin’?” Wrex asked, turning slightly so his beady eyes could spot her expression.

Aria smirked again, “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

He turned back to the bottles before him, “Didn’t take you for a ryncol girl.”

“Only when circumstances dictate. I suppose talking to you is one of them,” she drawled.

“Ouch.” He turned and lumbered back over to hand her a tumbler full of clear liquid, then over to take his seat. “So...Jack still workin’ out for ya?”

That was a turn in conversation she hadn’t expected. She was bored already. “Didn’t know you were interested.”

The Warlord grunted, “Come on Aleena, take that stick outta your ass for a second and talk to me.” He took a deep drink from his glass. “Not gonna kill ya.”

“I don’t know what’s funnier, you thinking that name is going to soften me up or that the alcohol will."

Wrex grunted again. “Here, I’ll show you how polite conversation works.” He gestured to himself in the hypothetical conversation, “Only asking about Jack because one of my krantt has a soft spot for her. Would be nice to take back a good word or two.” His hand then extended to her expectantly.

Aria huffed in amusement. “If she weren’t working out she wouldn’t be breathing. Want me to detail her current assignments? Tell you if she’s in harm’s way? Shall I tell her to contact you and check in?”

“Damn if you aren’t one cold fish,” he retorted before leaning forward with his elbows on his knee guards. “I _could_ say something about how curious I am, you putting so much investment in a human and all, but truth is I don’t really give a shit. We got bigger problems here and you can’t hide behind your little glass crown forever.”

Aria finally took a drink, hiding her calculations for a moment before speaking. “The only ‘problems’ I might have are coming straight from you, Wrex. How about you just take my refusal and fuck off back to your little empire? We can both live happily for whatever lifespan we have left.”

The Krogan just looked at her silently for a moment and that quiet calm was more unnerving than loud voices and wild articulation. “I’m here as a courtesy, because of the respect I have for you.”

Aria finished for him, lips curled in a sneer, “But you can just take it whenever you want, right? Try it. I think you might find I’ve got a few surprises.”

“I know you’re in bed with Tevos and the Council,” he explained patiently, “And _you_ know that doesn’t matter, not way out here. You knew this was coming, Omega-4 just made it happen faster. We’re taking Eingana, Aria, whether you like it or not. Then we’re going through the relay and all the mercenaries in the galaxy can’t stop us. I don’t wanna fight you on this. I want you _onboard_.”

“And what can you possibly give me that I don’t already have?” Aria scoffed with barely hidden disgust.

“Complete autonomy while you live and a percentage of our profits,” he replied with a suggestive nod. “We’ll use Omega as our base camp but we’ll be tenants only, you’re the landlord. You’ll die as you’ve lived, the undisputed Queen of Omega; and for once you won’t have to worry about anybody taking it from you.”

Aria had far too much practice to give away any emotion in her expression but she had to admit that just now she felt powerfully tired. She’d had to take this damnable rock not once but three times, the last from an Elcor hailing from Thunawanuro who fancied himself a liberator while the nebula was isolated from the rest of the galaxy by broken relays. The victory had been swift with the aid of her newly trained security forces, but the very act was humiliating from the start. Sure, what chance was there of her not being able to return to the station and command...ever again? But in the minds of the average merc it was always about your last victory, your latest display of power, and recent events had lowered that bar substantially. She’d spent the majority of her thousand years in this place ruling with an iron fist and it might as well have been six months to the rabble that crowded the asteroid’s cracks and crannies now. She’d been fighting a new war for reputation ever since, resorting to bloody and inefficient demonstrations to enforce her view and assert her dominance, a display apparently not necessary for the similarly long-lived Urdnot Wrex.

He paused for a moment, looking at her intently, “Now, I know you. You’ve probably got a dozen things behind your back you can use to spoil the well. You can hurt me, you can slow me down if that’s your choice but it’s a fight you can’t win and this time I don’t think you’ll escape the explosion.” He could have gloated over the reference but seemed completely earnest. She found herself wanting to kick him in the quad nevertheless. “I want to work with you because I know you’ll keep your word. Don’t you think it’s time we both had some peace?”

Peace. Hah. What she needed was space. She needed room to maneuver, but his offer wasn’t a terrible one. Her eyes narrowed with interest, “How much of a percentage?” The Krogan managed to look surprised at her response and she wasn’t sure if it was for effect or not. The bastard had real power now so it was probably beneath him to play dumb.

He leaned back against the wall pensively, the weight of his body making the bench groan. “Half a percent,” he said.

Aria rolled her eyes, “Get out of my club before I have you thrown out.”

“I leave that way and your club will be a crater when I’m done,” he retorted with a curled reptilian smile.

Aria wasn’t phased. “You’re a sorry sack of dreck, Wrex. You think I don’t know what you’re looking for in there? How much would the Shadow Broker charge you for that tech?”

“Heheh, if the Shadow Broker played ball I wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t have the chance to profit from his loss.”

Aria laughed and kicked back the Ryncol before speaking. “You know what I think?” She pointed a finger from around the highball as she continued, “I think he gave you a price you couldn’t afford. That’s what I think. I think “Empire Urdnot” is all out of cash after your recent expansions and you need me to facilitate this bit of archaeology for the ‘cause’.” Her eyes flashed and she set her glass on the table beside the couch. “Five percent. That’s my price.”

“Hah!” Wrex exclaimed, “Not unless you want to join this ‘little empire’ and fight for me, it’s not.” He leaned forward, an elbow on his knee and his red, beady eyes narrowing aggressively. “You think you can hold this system against all takers with what _you_ got? ”

“Don’t have to,” she replied with a sniff, “No one else is crazy enough to go in there.”

“Not what I heard.” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “In fact, I hear there’s pretty regular traffic going through that relay. Know anything about that?” His eyes were steady as he drank, watching her carefully.

“That’s not your concern and that traffic isn’t to be interfered with in any way,” she said with a clenched jaw. “Four percent.”

His body shook with a laugh that never made it free of his chest, “Tell you what. Because it’s you and this is some mighty fine Ryncol, I’ll give you one. Two if you give me the secret on how they’re surviving passage. Whoever we run into once we’re there needs to stay clear of us, though. Salvage rights will be enforced. Vigorously.”

Aria took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose before speaking again. “I’ll think about it,” she said, and there was no room for equivocation in her tone.

“All I ask,” Wrex said, standing. “I need to know your answer before I leave system, though.”

“Don’t dictate terms to me, old man,” she snapped despite the creeping fondness she felt for the Krogan leader, “The Council might not be willing to fight you over Eingana but one word from me and you can kiss Tyr goodbye. Remember that.”

Wrex laughed as he turned to leave then spoke over his shoulder with a deep approving rumble, “There’s my girl.”

Aria shook her head once he was gone and walked over to refill her glass with something more palatable. As she was pouring she heard her longtime bodyguard Bray’s low voice from the door.

“Boss, Jack is back. Send her up?”

“Already? Hmm.” Aria turned to look at the Batarian and gave a slight nod, which turned him around and out, then took a seat on her leather couch with a contemplative sigh.

Wrex was right, she had seen this coming. Being in the Terminus systems used to mean forging your own destiny while the rest of the galaxy squabbled over worlds on the other side of the swirl. When the humans made their grand entrance on the scene and in a few decades managed to settle an area that rivaled Council space in size it opened a lot of eyes and a lot of wallets. That rush to claim territory had been stopped cold by the Reapers, though; the vast majority of colonies destroyed and their territories opened up again to any who could hold it.

Before the Reapers Aria would have guessed the Salarians would be the quickest to expand but everything had changed with the war. With the recognition of the Rachni as a sentient species and the curing of the Krogan genophage the two races quickly took stock of homeworlds devastated before the invasion even began. They had nothing to lose by branching out and the treaties offered by the council gave them latitude to pick a small number of worlds not formally claimed by any of the recognized races as restitution and reward. The Salarians, on the other hand, were the target of censure and with the majority of their fleet missing in action after their failed attempt to conquer Tuchanka were hamstrung in their efforts to participate in the new race for colonization.

To add insult to Salarian injury, both the Krogan and the Rachni elected to settle planets in the Exodus Cluster. The garden planet Terra Nova was already claimed by the Alliance, but Tyr and Loki’s living conditions were both within tolerances of their respective species with a bit of terraforming. If it weren’t enough that the new alliance between the three races spat in the face of Salarian objectives the Exodus Cluster lay just a single relay jump away from their homeworld, Sur’Kesh; not only posing what they deemed an unacceptable security risk but potentially blocking the shortest route to the rimworlds of the Traverse if conflict ever arose.

It had been a bitter pill to swallow but the Salarians still had teeth. There was no better terraforming technology in the galaxy than theirs and they outright refused to provide it to either race in protest. Wrex’s pleas to the Shadow Broker for aid in their endeavors had apparently also come up empty, though Aria knew better than to believe it was about credits. The Salarians might have the lion’s share of galactic ire heaped upon them for recent warlike activities but that didn’t mean their motives were without merit. No other species in the galaxy could reproduce as quickly as the Rachni and Krogan and there wasn’t any debate about how dangerous they could become. In the past the Salarians had pit one against the other to keep them in check but if either of them chose to become a bad actor this time that wouldn’t be an option.

No, Aria suspected the Shadow Brokers were withholding that tech for a very simple reason: To slow the Krogan and Rachni down. She hadn’t been close enough to the Convergence for the last year to know it for a fact, of course, but she surmised the decision would have been an easy one for Tevos to embrace; it achieved some level of safety against the threat with no one the wiser. It bought the galaxy time but that’s why Wrex had come to her doorstep instead. There was no guarantee the Krogan would find any terraforming tech in the unfathomably old shipwrecks at the center of the galaxy but there was every chance they would find far more valuable things they could use for payment or extortion.

She heard Wrex’s loud laughter downstairs. He and Jack must’ve been catching up while she was lost in thought. If it had been any other Krogan asking for the secret of the Omega 4 relay they’d have been escorted out at gunpoint but she and Wrex went way back. He really _was_ a beacon of hope for his race, a sane voice that had powerful friends in the Council because he was among the few Krogan that could be trusted not only to consider compromise but make good on his promises. Whether she helped him or not this was likely the end of an independent Omega. There was no logistical or political way to stop the Krogan from spreading to this system and beyond, so she’d have to consider his offer carefully.

Any smile on Jack’s face leftover from her talk with Wrex was gone by the time she stormed into Aria’s chambers. Well, Aria thought, perhaps ‘stormed’ was the wrong word. While anger radiated from the woman it wasn’t the same aura she had when they first met. It was controlled. Internalized. Banked. With a barely perceptible nod she walked right by where Aria was seated and began to drown her emotions at the bar.

“Trouble in paradise?” Aria taunted, but just shy of enough venom to set the woman off.

“Whattaya you want me to say?” Jack asked between gulps of something purple, “That you were right?”

She smiled at the victory while Jack wasn’t looking but smoothed it quickly when she turned. “Right about which part, that you’d get tired of playing step and fetch or that she meant more to you than you ever cared to admit?”

Jack sneered and came to settle her weight on the same couch segment. She sat, legs spread and back bowed, glass hanging from her fingertips while she chewed her bottom lip. “Is this the part where you send a dancer to my room? ‘Cause I’ve got a pre-emptive fuck-you waiting.”

Aria shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t care who you take to bed. That’s your business.”

She could feel the waves of angst coming off the young human in response and it nearly made her eyes roll out of her head. “Jack,” she said sternly until the biotic turned to look at her, “Did you break it off with her?”

She could almost hear Jack’s teeth grinding with her nod and Aria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Stupid. Little. Child. You’re going to run back to her the first time you get lonely and give her the upper hand.”

“Oh shut the..” Jack growled, straightening. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? She’s not trying to play me, she’s just got her head stuck so far up her ass she can smell what she had for breakfast!”

Aria scoffed, widened her eyes in consternation and shook her head, “Keep deluding yourself, kid. I think you’re letting your cunt make decisions but hey, what do I know about double-dealing, backstabbing power brokers?” When Jack narrowed her eyes at her she added, “She happen to ask you about current events?”

When Jack stood to pace she laughed and gestured with an open hand. “Behold the towering pillar of strength. I thought you had a handle on this. I thought your relationship was a...a convenience? A way to blow off steam. How concerned should I be at this point?”

Jack’s head swiveled and glared. Progress at last. “I’m no snitch,” she retorted with barely concealed rage. “Power that shit down..”

Aria didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stared. Jack stared right back, challenge in her eyes. The human was learning but had a long, long way to go before Aria could trust her judgement. She softened her tone, though; denigrating the woman’s pubescent need for connection would only push her farther away from where she needed to be. “You know what? You’re right. Miranda Lawson is good at her job. She’s good at it because it’s all she’s ever known, which also means it’s what she falls back on whenever she feels threatened. It’s what _professionals_ do. Are you a professional?”

Jack sniffed and pulled at her face, something she often did when struggling to bring herself under control.

Sometimes Aria wondered if this was worth the effort, but Jack was far more biddable than Shepard ever was and with her tutelage only slightly less effective. Every weapon ever made needed maintenance and this human was no different. “Have you stopped meditating?” Aria asked in a detached voice.

Jack shook her head wearily, “Just haven’t yet, today.”

“Then you know what you need to do. I’ve got nothing else for you tonight.”

When Jack was nearly at the exit Aria interrupted, “Jack.” When the biotic turned and levelled that pained gaze back upon her she continued, “I need you to get your shit together. ”

Jack shifted her weight from one hip to the other, her posture just as willing for violence as it ever was. “Point and shoot, boss. Point and shoot.”

 

                                                                                                          ~~~

 

Jack pondered another lonely night in the darkness of her apartment and dismissed it immediately. It wasn’t a terrible place, really; she’d once lived under a dank stairwell for a month after relocating (not running, dammit, not running) from Chasca with 50 screaming pain-cultists on her six. That pisshole sucked about as much as you’d expect. Nah, this place was great, but the red glow that permeated the interior of Omega shone through her windows and reminded her of long Teltin nights. It wasn’t the redness that creeped her, it was the memory that the moment the facility came off battery power, when the lights turned sanitary white instead of smoldering red that she’d start wishing death had stolen her away while she slept. Even now she sometimes woke in that dull hellish glow, forgot where she was and her first thought would be, ‘ _How long ‘til morning?_ ’.  

Didn’t help that she felt like a scalded puppy after having come back to Miranda begging for scraps and getting a crack in the face for her trouble. Okay crappy metaphors aside she just wasn’t gonna stay there tonight. At least if she roamed the station she couldn’t doubt she was free; so she only stopped in to drop off her pack and change clothes. _And check my messages, I guess._ Her terminal was chiming politely so she woke it and ran her finger to the one highlighted mail, tapping it before turning away toward the washroom.

She expected it to be Lawson...but heard a guttural laugh instead. “Hey Jack, me and some boys from Aralakh are on station. Not sure if you’re around but if you’re free, catch us at Crashdown. It’s been too long since I put you through a wall.” Her disappointment about Miranda’s latest diss was suddenly replaced with a wicked smile at the thought of hanging with Grunt and co again.

“Meditation,” she said with a chuckle and shrug, “Screw that spew.” This would be a much better way to forget.

Looking at herself in the mirror brought another unpleasant reminder in the form of long black hair spilling roughshod over her shredded compression tank and darkly patterned shoulders. She leaned to one side and pulled at a belt hanging from a hook until a knife came free then straightened to consider that weak-ass token of useless affection. In moments she had a full foot cut and dumped in the recycler but before she could start shaving she paused, choosing instead to cut it short and tight. After an additional moment she shaved out one of the tattoos that circled her skull, a reminder of that cult and an expression of pain that no-one but she and the universe would understand. The halo of hair poofed in her reflection but she cured that with some product, slicking it back except for a curl over one side of her forehead. Her dark eyes popped against her pale skin and she nodded in silent approval before wiping the blade and putting it away.

Her hand caught the collar of her high black coat as she passed the chair of her desk and with a whoosh of the door she was out into the acrid smelling mining district. It was a place everybody avoided due to eezo poisoning and that, plus the low rent and relative solitude, made it perfect for her. She took a deep breath, the burn in her lungs a distant thing compared to her first days on Omega. She strode through darkened, cloudy alleys; knowing them as well as the veins on the back of her hand. She passed others, mostly Asari but a few biotics of other races and their nods of recognition earned hers in return. Each one of them had earned a place here in this shithole for long enough to know one another and to know someone here for longer than six months meant you didn’t wanna fuck with them. When a person couldn’t see your weapons but knew you had them they tended to knuckle a brow unless they had a bone to pick. The gangs picked few bones here. Not enough creds for the risk.

The lights rose, colors began to vary and music started to thrum the closer she got to Five Points. Grunt’s message was clear...they could’ve gone anywhere but came to her and she had to admit that tiny little warm spot she had for the Krogan only got bigger every time they hung.

It’d been a long boring night by herself on the Normandy the first time she made her way to his cargo bay. She’d heard of the weirdo tank monkey being brought onboard and the whispered static about setting it free. Once things settled and Shepard stopped stalking the place she figured she’d size it up herself so in she went. She found it sitting with its back to a corner, knees bent, watching the door...and something about that pose struck her deep as a knife.

It watched her and she watched it. It didn’t say anything at all, eyes glowing in the reflected light of the corridor before the door slid shut behind her. There, in the dark, they stayed until they could hear one another breathing. It made Jack’s hackles rise and she remembered feeling adrenaline flood all the way to her fingertips but she wasn’t gonna be the first to speak. She heard its weight rise, the metal bulkhead behind it giving it away; and she padded around the room letting her eyes adjust while putting her side to it like she would any fear-aggressive varren. It wouldn’t make ‘em friendly but it would make ‘em pause and it seemed to work here, too.

“You’re in my space, human. If you are looking for death, you’ve found it,” came its voice, low and threatening.

Jack didn’t stop her exploration, though now she could make out the sheer size of the Krogan in her peripheral vision thanks to the soft glow of the pod’s control panel.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be,” was her growled reply. Then, with genuine curiosity, “What makes _you_ so special? Why are you here?”

“I….am Krogan...perfected,” it said with confidence and without warning, rushed her.

 

Later she heard he pulled the same shit with Shepard but unlike _her_ Jack wasn’t playing a game of hide the pistol. When security finally broke in, rifles leveled, they found them both covered in blood and sporting broken bones, grinning and surrounded by busted equipment. Chakwas was pissed and Shepard flipped her shit but they’d been tight ever since.

Crashdown was especially lively by the time she got there...Aralakh didn’t know the meaning of rules. There were three times the number of bouncers and the regulars had checked out except for a few lurking in corners, fingers twitching near their holsters. A quarter of the space was already taken by the place’s namesake, a lifepod ejected from the Cerberus cruiser Aria used to take back the station. It’d put a hole through the roof and planted below the floor and was basically the only thing holding the place together so it had never been removed. You couldn’t see the liquor-tenders for the number of ten foot bodies crowding the bar and Jack smelled spilled ryncol all the way at the door. Jack just paused, hip cocked and a stupid grin crawling over her face when she heard him shout.

“About time!” he cried, wide shoulders breaking violently between his buddies before he lifted his hands high in greeting. “We’re leaving in the morning. Come!” He gestured wildly. “Drink!”

“What, you left some for me?” Jack barked as she approached, “I’m fucking touched!”

Grunt’s unique laughter filled the space, “You will never go without as long as I’m around.” He smashed a mug against her chest and put his meaty hands around her head before head-butting her…..politely. His reptilian eyes peered down at her despite her new height as he held her there for a moment, then withdrew. “Men! Meet the second fiercest human I ever met!”

“A fact still in dispute!” She shouted back before drinking deep, the liquor spilling down her face and chest as she slurped to their collective laughter. Ahhh...gods the shit burned. She drank until it tortured her stomach before taking a breath. “Next round’s on me!” she managed to shout while choking, “To the bravest Krogan in the ‘verse!” Their shouts of approval were music to her ears and for a few hours, she was home.

Funny thing about all the upgrades she had done. They made it hard as hell to get drunk, which put her firmly into Krogan territory as far as holding her liquor. She managed to hang ‘til morning and earned herself another Krogan badge of courage, trading stories and jokes until about an hour before ‘dawn’, but the company had been drinking a lot longer than she had and were in various stages of consciousness. In the end it was her and Grunt at a large table, something she finally mentioned.

“You uh,” Jack said with a knowing look at the same mug he’d held for at least 3 rounds, “Holding back?”

Grunt grunted and gave a nod, “Gotta look after these pups. Some o’them are as green as pyjack puke.”

“So this a rookie run then?” Jack said, gut twisting with memories of fresh faces looking to her for direction.

“Oh they’re all blooded,” he replied, “Just so fresh they’d never been off Tuchanka. Earned their merits and got hand-picked to escort Wrex for a tour. Big honor, that kind of thing.”

Jack nodded, “Wait ‘til you’re overrun with kids from the next gen. You better train these guys right, you’re gonna need some seeerious help.”

“That’s only the beginning of my problems, heh heh heh.”

Jack saw the odd glint in his eye as he chortled, “Wait a minute….is that a ‘I got a ladyfriend’ look on your face?”

“Got two,” he confirmed with a rise of his chin, such as it was, “And they don’t even fight about it.”

“Holy shit, _two_?? How many krogan you have to gut to make that happen?”

Grunt looked around at the still forms of his squad before lowering his voice, “Only one. Was my second’s mate at the time. I didn’t start anything, either,” he growled, “He said he couldn’t stomach the thought of a tank-bred breathing much less breeding... so I relieved him of that burden.”

Jack snickered. “So the sucker mouths off to the leader of Aralakh company? Hah! I think I know which one shouldn’t be breeding.” Then she shook her head in disgust. “How many times you think yer gonna have to prove yourself, man?”

“As long as Krogan have quads,” he replied with thunder-like finality, “And I’m okay with it. I need to make an example every once in awhile anyway, might as well have them come to me.”

Jack considered her friend for a moment then struck his mug with hers, “Ya done pretty well for a fucking toddler, you know that?”

Grunt grinned and finally upended his drink. Jack started to do the same but before it touched her lips the room shook. She set down her mug, trying to focus her bleary vision when it shook a second time and then a third, the last so much stronger it moved everything in the bar and nearly knocked over their chairs. They were both on their feet in an instant, Grunt kicking anyone not already rising, and Jack pulled up her Omni to check in. She was interrupted by the flicker of Aria’s face appearing and she didn’t look happy.

“Get to Afterlife. Now.”

“Sure, but…what’s going on?”

The Asari’s eyes narrowed irritably at having to explain herself, but she took a breath and gave a single sentence before disconnecting. “Wrex’s flagship just exploded.”


	4. Chapter 4

“So the question is,” Shepard mused from her podium above the 62 seated soldiers and their closest family and friends, “Why were you the ones to make it through the hurdles and trials put before you? How were you able to persist despite the odds?”

“It’s a question I’ve gotten a lot,” she joked with a mischievous grin before being answered with scattered laughter, “But it’s a question that will stay with you long after the press has gone home and it’s a question you’ll hear more and more as you progress, because this isn’t the end of the road for you, as you know. It’s just the beginning.”

Her eyes couldn’t help but drift to where Ashley sat with her husband of two years and one of the honored graduates tonight. The words were for everyone but they would understand them more than most, perhaps more than anyone here. “Why’d I make it?” she said again, suddenly somber. Ashley’s earnest gaze was pained but clear of tears...she’d come a long, long way since that fateful day on Virmire. Shepard’s eyes leapt to James’ after and his head was lifted proudly. He’d found peace with his past, too.

“Situations like these are rarely simple and never ever fair. Someday you might be told to march into hell and die for the cause and that’s the plain truth. On that day the reason you will stand victorious when no-one else could is because you thrive in chaos. You’ve been trained by the best; you serve with the best and by god when you go head to head with something that tests your resolve….”

Shepard looked around at the confident, triumphant faces of the class of 2191 and addressed them directly. “You will rise to that challenge because you know _who you are_. You know without a moment’s reflection what you were born to do. Analyze. Act. Repeat.”

She paused again for effect, then pointed a fingertip at the surface before her and pressed down hard twice for emphasis while she spoke, “And what you’ll do between this day and that final day, what you’ll do better than anyone else ready to give their lives for others is build relationships. We aren’t just soldiers, ladies and gentlemen. We aren’t just the finest warriors in Alliance space. We make everyone around us _better_.”

She was drowned in applause and nodded slowly as it began to calm. Even when it had, she waited another moment and took a sip of water from a glass on the dias, her eyes turned inward before continuing. “The teamwork we foster isn’t motivated by money, power or fame. It’s an expression of our purest selves for no other purpose than the intrinsic goals we share. It’s _autotelic_ . When we encounter adversity we strive and never ever yield and once we get into that zone time seems to stop while we become... _unstoppable_. There’s no room for ego, and everything else falls away until only the objective remains.”

It was all so clear to her, in this moment, the memories rising and falling like waves on the sea. She could feel the synergy she shared with the various denizens of the Normandy through all their travels; knew them all as well as she knew herself while they knew her just as keenly. Their thoughts and weapons fired as one.

“When you look back on those experiences they fill your heart and soul,” she murmured, swallowing the emotion that tightened her throat. “They will become the most important, most meaningful moments in your life and you will want to...will _need_ to experience them again and again. It is only through this...synchronicity with others that you can be actualized...that you can be everything you were meant to be.”

She cleared her throat, thick with love and pride. “So revel in what you’ve built here in ICT. Embrace your brothers and sisters and remember the victory you’ve achieved by holding each other up. Congratulations, graduates.” Shepard stood at attention away from the microphone and raised her voice, “WHO’S LIKE US?!”

The soldiers shouted in unison to the confusion of their family and friends, “DAMN FEW! AND THEY’RE ALL DEAD!”

 

                        ~~~

 

“So…” Shepard said through a chest heaving chuckle to the group of soldiers, “I come out of the elevator and hear Lieutenant Cortez saying, ‘There’s only one gun you manage to keep clean, Mister Vega.’”

The laughter was loud and long and James choked on his beer, a red blush spreading across his deeply tanned face. Once he quit coughing and wiped his face with the back of a meaty hand he protested, “He said ‘weapon’, not ‘gun’!”

“Um, honey, that’s….not a great counter,” Ashley Williams-Vega chuckled with a grin, chin in one hand.

“He was talking about my physique! About how I maintain my physique! Not my……” Vega shouted, still choking as the dozen or so people gathered round guffawed. He eventually just sighed and shook his head, covered his eyes with his hand and muttered, “Madre de dios…”

It was a beautiful night, the full moon illuminating clouds that shredded the sky in bands. Warm summer breezes tossed the tops of tropical palms that surrounded Steve Hackett’s large outdoor patio. He’d opened up his rental to the graduating class and dozens of people milled both inside and outside the house barely a mile from the bay in Rio. About twenty people, all told, gravitated around Shepard and the Vegas at any one time, their reputation already revered amongst the assembly.

Shepard clapped James on the shoulder to make him feel better then stood to get a refill. After she left, another voice made him open his eyes.

“You don’t have to take that shit lying down, you know.” It was Turner, of course. The tall, nano-enhanced soldier with ebony skin and hair the color of snow reclined against a post, her chair on its rear two legs and her face split with a trademark smirk. It was rumored her hair turned that color during the war but no one knew for certain. “Come on, tell us something juicy...she can’t be _that_ perfect.”

Before James could object he found himself engulfed in encouragement from his buddies. He felt more than saw the warning look coming from his wife but couldn’t argue with his sister-in-arms. It was important they saw Shepard for who she was and not the icon for recruitment they’d been fed. After all, they were destined to follow in her footsteps, a task made more difficult with awe tripping them up.

“Well, there _was_ this one time,” he said, pulling his thumb and forefinger down around his mouth as he mused. In seconds he had everyone’s rapt attention and sat back, pulling his massive arms over the back of his chair to cradle his head. “I was guarding her while she was under house arrest on Arcturus Station. She’d been pent up for like…. two months and it was killing her to stand around when she _knew_ the Reapers were on the way. Woulda been enough to make anyone loco but she’d kept her cool so far.” James grinned and shook his head, remembering. “Least ‘till she got that care-package from Feros.”

More of his peers were slowing by the crowd now as he spoke and James saw Shepard returning with another drink in her hand. Their eyes met and he expected her to stop him, protest, something; but she just stood near the back and took a sip, eyes crinkling in mirth.

He felt better about it at that point and kept going, pulling his arms back down so he could use his hands to help tell the story. “I mean you gotta know everything that got to her was screened like a hundred times looking for something she could use to get the drop on us or whatev but after awhile I think we all started feeling a little sorry for her.”

“Anyway!” he said as he saw some eyes begin to wander, “She gets this care-package, right? And in it is this huge bottle of liquor that the folks in security cleared for her. I don’t even remember what it was but it was sort of orange-colored and came with a note that made her smile. When I came back on for late shift that night I wasn’t there thirty minutes before I heard the,” James started laughing despite himself, “the _strangest_ sounds coming out of her cell.”

“Oh boy,” Shepard groaned from behind everyone and heads turned to chuckle before he continued.

James laughed again, “So I peek in, right? And what do I see? I see Commander freaking Shepard jumping around like a kid, straight up caterwauling that song that was big at the time...oh shit, what was it?” He snapped his fingers when it came to him, “Backwater Paradise!”

Now the groans came from everyone in the crowd. It’d been the worst that pop could produce, all cliches and rebel sentiment...and was a huge hit in colonies from the traverse. “And she was singing loud and proud, compadres, loud and proud,” he continued, “Problem was, she couldn’t hit a note to save her _life_!”

“Might have had something to do with the earbuds. You know, in my ears?” Shepard muttered saucily in response to the chuckles around her.

“Haha! More likely it had something to do with that _empty bottle!_ I’ve never seen someone jerk around like that outside an epileptic spasm.”

They all started laughing then and Shepard just shrugged with her own grin, “I was just trying to get a buzz going and went a little overboard.”

Lieutenant Turner balanced her weight forward on the chair, then back again so the headrest met the post behind it with an audible clack. When that drew attention to her again she spoke in a conversational voice, “Shit taste in music. Check.” Her eyes went back to Shepard’s and there was a glint there that James couldn’t quite place. “Whatcha listen to now that you’re good and bored? Find anything worthy or you sticking with the ‘classics’?”

A quizzical look passed over Shep’s face and she skipped the Lieutenant’s last question entirely despite the others’ amused interest. “Who says I’m bored?” she asked with eyes suddenly sharp.

It wasn’t like Shep to get defensive so seeing it was a surprise. Made him feel like he needed to shut everyone and everything down, pronto; an instinct in his guts he shut down ruthlessly instead because, _Shepard._

“Everything about you,” Turner said with confidence at her reaction, “Especially that speech. Hasn’t been five years yet but sounds like you wish you could be back in the war jus'ta feel somethin.”

The crowd quieted with a couple of low curses and even James could feel the pressure of the gazes on Shepard now. He gripped the arms of his chair to stand but those green eyes speared him in place with a glance before returning to Turner.

Shepard’s back straightened and her hands automatically folded behind her in a stance James recognized immediately from his time on the Normandy. Her face didn’t give away any hint of emotion. “If that’s your takeaway I’d say you missed the point, Lieutenant,” she said quietly.

Quiet wasn’t good and there was no missing Turner’s lazy smile; the one she usually wore before…

“Show some respect, soldier,” came a voice instantly recognized by every man and woman in the room. It was a voice they heard only in the best and very worst parts of the war...a disembodied voice of calm command that held together every disparate piece of the Alliance Navy when it should have crumbled under the otherworldly onslaught of the Reapers.

Steven Hackett slid up beside Shepard and took a demonstrative puff off a cigar just to make sure he had everyone’s undivided attention. “You wanna talk about her music choices, you have at it. You wanna take a shot at her honor you’re going to have a very big problem.”

Turner looked around her and Vega guessed she didn’t like what she saw in her brothers’ and sisters’ faces. The smile came back, of course, but she tilted her head and with her palms up said, “No disrespect, sir. We’ve all heard the stories. Just wanted to see what she was made of, that's all.”

Shepard’s expression relaxed and she looked sideways at Hackett meaningfully before crossing her arms and shifting her weight to the foot nearest him. “Well hell, why didn’t you just say so?” She killed her drink and handed it to Steven before starting to shrug out of her blazer. When Turner didn’t respond, Shepard paused and put on a confused look. “What, you don’t wanna find out?”

Turner grinned wolfishly and stood, her expression suddenly bright. “Might be my only chance, what with you gettin’ all long in the tooth.” The soldier stood almost a head taller than Shepard and she was lean and muscular. There was no prime like the prime of an N7 graduate and she clearly knew it.

The Lieutenant had always been a bit of a hot-head, eager to prove her mettle but no dunce when it came to tactics. She’d seen a great deal of action with the resistance on Earth despite barely being an adult at the time, but grit only went so far against the Reapers and she’d been gifted the ugly end of it. It’d been a miracle she survived if the tales were true, but that same determination carried her immediately into the service once she recovered; her capabilities returned fivefold through the cyber-replacement program pioneered by Shepard herself. Before long she’d settled in as a scout sniper, one of the most demanding and unforgiving MOS’s in existence, then thrived there with a combination of instinct and talent that carried her quickly into N-series training. In a way she reminded James of a young Shepard, but he wondered if this little flexing contest hadn’t gone too far. It was one thing to bring Shep down off a pedestal for his class’ benefit; it was another to be dethroned entirely. His sidelong glance to Ashley seemed to confirm his thoughts, her eyes were widened and cautious. Did she think Shepard might actually lose?

The now large group of people began to clear a space until Hackett leaned in close to the red-head. He heard nothing but whispers but saw Shepard nod agreeably before he made his intentions clear by raising his hands and his voice. “Not in the rental, folks. Let’s take this friendly challenge to the Villa. Anyone not interested is free to stay here and relax.”

As everyone turned to leave, murmuring excitedly, Hackett added, “And Shepard!”

When she turned to listen, he continued with a wink, “Don’t hurt the kid too bad.”

 

                        ~~~

 

“I just don’t understand how you think this is a good idea,” Ashley warned while weaving through traffic. She looked back over her shoulder briefly at Shepard in the back, then turned her eyes forward again. “You win, you look like a bully. You lose, you look like a has-been.”

Shepard scooted forward and poked her head between the front seats, watching the skycars go by. “If I recall correctly, she called _me_ out, so I can’t be a bully. And who cares if I lose? I don’t know any of us with reporters on speed-dial but even if they did...so what? I doubt my speaking schedule’d even slow down.”

“Nobody’s gonna go to the press,” James agreed, “But I still dunno what you’re thinking, Lola. What’s your angle?”

Shepard shrugged, “Look, there’s nothing mysterious about it, guys. I haven’t fought anyone else with this level of enhancements before. Everyone talks about me like I’m some sort of super-soldier but let’s be honest, a lot of it was probably the Lazarus implants. I just wanna know how much.”

“You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone,” Ashley protested, “You were just as effective in combat when we first met. You came out of the Blitz alive before you even met Cerberus, for God’s sake. Question answered.”

James didn’t look convinced, but he also looked like he didn’t wanna contradict his wife. “I dunno babe, she and I sparred on the SR-2 before we dropped you off at the Citadel and I remember her hittin’ me like a ton of bricks. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll always be my Sexy Spectre Superhero, but I’ve never been hit that hard by a woman in my life.” Then he looked back at Shepard, “Until Turner, anyway. She’s more ‘netics than meat, chiqueta.”

“And you haven’t been active in years,” chimed Ashley with concern. “She’s gonna be at her best.”

Shepard didn’t know whether to be touched or alarmed that the pair were so earnestly trying to dissuade her from a simple sparring session. “And _I’ve_ still got all my upgrades,” she insisted. “Look, it’s not like either one of us is gonna die from a few punches, right? Relax!” She smiled lazily and put her hands around both of their shoulders...giving them a shake. “This’ll be fun!”

She felt good about her chances as they hopped out of the skycar to find themselves surrounded by a bunch of intoxicated, cheerful graduates. None of them knew she stayed active in the simulators, it was something she’d kept just for herself to keep her wits sharp and her endurance long. Truth be told, she’d been itching for a sparring partner she couldn’t really hurt. This would do nicely.

                        ~~~

They’d started tentatively, both of them circling and testing one another. They were all smiles around their mouthguards, reveling in the shouts of encouragement and building adrenaline. Turner was quicker than most simply because she was so slender; it was less mass to move with every strike but each hit had the full power of engineered muscle and bone behind it. Shepard found her own punches landing short and had to turn Turner’s fists away often, something she attributed to being out of practice until she committed to her first cross.

It was the punch to the throat that finally opened her eyes.

Shepard backpedaled and struggled to drag in a breath, trying to understand just what had happened. Turner’s jab had missed and she’d closed into range. Shepard’s right had come in on target but Turner’s head bobbed quick enough that her fist slid by her left ear. That left her exposed, Shepard’s own left hand guarding against a jab from her opponent, not a well paced and devastating cross of her own. It landed in that sensitive spot just between windpipe and jugular that somehow managed to crush both and the dip in blood pressure to her oxygen-craving brain now found no help from her lungs to compensate. It left her scrambling, the brief moment she’d been allowed to evaluate the damage gone before Turner was all over her.

She’d known this was gonna hurt even before she stepped foot in the ring but underestimated just how much.Turner’s fists felt like blocks of granite, each blow to the body physically moving her around like a punching bag when she’d normally have shrugged them off and gone on offense. Now she found herself moving only backward, her biggest achievement at this point that she hadn’t lost her footing but as the attacks rained down on her she began to feel time begin to slow as her own adrenaline caught up; her tempo beginning to match the woman's blinding pace until she finally started feeling her arms pummeled instead of her ribs and stomach.

She was momentarily elated but knew that once Turner realized her guard was up she was going to change tactics. It wasn’t so much a thought process as instinct at this point, but her opponent was clearly taking advantage of the stagger and was hoping for a quick finish. If you can’t hit high, you hit low and she _felt_ the leg sweep coming before the soldier even began the turn. Her body took over at that point, a front kick with all the force she could muster landing squarely in the small of Turner’s back to send her sprawling to the deck.

Her throat still throbbed and even swallowing hurt, the blow to her windpipe making her voice rough and coarse. “Not bad!” She croaked above the shouting of the spectators surrounding the mats. She beckoned with her hands to the woman who was looking up at her now with a bit more respect, then barked, “Get up.” As the blonde stood and brought up her guard there was a sparkle in her eyes and Shepard knew precisely why. It’d been a long time, these four plus years, since she’d felt the thrill of a real fight. It was good, down deep in her bones good; and she realized dimly that the need for it would never really go away. It was a part of her, a part of them both.

Shepard was still a bit lethargic when they started up again. Nobody in the simulators could match Turner’s speed or precision but Shepard began to push herself and before long was blocking and countering well. The room seemed to fade away along with all the faces and voices until it was the two of them alone, their universe centered around the movements of their bodies, the thrill of success and the pain of failure.

Damn she was good. Turner’s reach was her biggest advantage and Shepard was constantly having to maneuver around that iron plated jab. It didn’t take long to realize just how much of a beating she was taking, the taste of blood followed by the tingle in her flesh that spoke of the nanites doing their job to repair her. There was crimson on Turner’s gloves, too, and she realized she needed to change arenas if she wanted a chance to win this thing.

The next time her opponent sent her knuckles toward her nose, Shepard turned into it and dodged, grabbing the soldier’s arm with both hands as it passed. She sent her right elbow into Turner’s face to put her further off balance while she spun to pull the woman’s weight across her right hip. She felt Turner’s body come off the floor as expected but was startled to see her plant one of her feet like a cat in front of her instead of fall to the ground. Shepard immediately went for a guillotine before she could lift her head but as soon as her grip loosened on Turner’s arm she felt the woman’s own grip ensnaring her by the elbow and they began to grapple in earnest.

Before either of them went to the mat though, there was a whistle blown three times from the entryway. As one, the graduates turned to see who had entered, the arena getting suddenly quiet. Both she and Turner rose, looking towards the door before looking at one another again. They straightened, breathing heavy and grinning at one another amicably; then Turner pointed at a place on her own face, above her right brow, and whispered, “You gotta bit of something there,” before winking and turning her head toward the whistle.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Came the unmistakable shout of a drill instructor over all their heads and echoing off the walls. “As of right now, all leaves are cancelled!”

While there were a few groans, overall the crowd was quiet and attentive. Meanwhile, Shepard stripped off her left glove and brought fingers up to a sore and throbbing spot above her eye. It came back bloody and she shook her head in consternation. She’d have to do better next time.

“You are to report to your respective CO’s office at 23 hundred for briefing! That is all!”

As whispers and soft conversation began, Shepard turned to Turner again and they met gloves with enthusiasm. Shepard dropped her mouthpiece into her hand and smirked after licking her lips, “Well that was educational.”

Turner's chuckle was rich and deep. “What, the announcement or the ass-kicking?”

Shepard laughed at the barb. “Both. It’s weird, my first thought was, ‘Shit, who’s my CO again?’”

“Must be nice,” she groaned in response. “If it helps, every time someone asks me what I want to be when I grow up, I say, ‘Retired’?”

They both snickered and Shepard looked appropriately dubious before replying sincerely, “It’s _everything_ it’s cracked up to be.” Then it was her turn to wink. “Nice meeting you, Lieutenant. Good fight. Stay safe out there.”

“You too, Shepard. Take care,” she said before moving off to strip her gloves.

Fortunately Shepard had someone who could answer all her questions and sought Ashley out immediately, finding her in close conversation with Vega. She stood outside their space for a moment, letting them say their goodbyes.

Ashley caressed the side of Vega’s face with a palm and their eyes were loving and sad at the same time. James stepped into her arms while his own encircled her to pull her close and their kiss was slow and full of promise. If she didn’t miss her guess they probably just had plans cancelled. Ahh...military life.

When they parted, James turned and held out a hand which Shepard took fondly. “Well, off you go,” she said in a low voice, “You ready for this?”

“Better be,” he said with certainty. “Listen, I wanna thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You might not've been the one that submitted the initial rec but otherwise you’re the biggest reason I’m standing here. I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah well, go be a big damn hero,” she returned after a moment, flustered with pride. They embraced roughly, then James nodded to them both and headed out.

Now that they were in the back and separated from the crowd streaming through the double doors Shepard whispered out the side of her mouth, “Any idea what’s going on?”

“Nope,” Ashley whispered back. “Get changed. Then let’s get to the car and see what we can see.”

While Ashley connected to the Spectre database Shepard powered up her Omni to find a missed contact from Liara. It might have just been a coincidence but the hairs standing on the back of her neck said otherwise. Her fears were confirmed by the asari’s expression when she appeared after a callback.

“Shepard,” she said with a half-hearted attempt at a normal tone, “I am glad you are still…”

“Awake? Sober?” she quipped with a smirk, “Yep, you called a half hour too soon to see me at my worst.”

Meanwhile Liara had tilted her head, eyes fixed on something above Shepard’s eyes, “Are you….alright?”

Her free hand went involuntarily to the cut above her brow and she cleared her throat before lowering it again. Her mouth worked before she shook her head and grinned self-consciously. “And here you were thinking I was gonna get hit on. Turns out I did! Don’t worry honey, just passing the torch, remember?”

Liara’s mouth formed a silent ‘Ah’ before her eyes flicked down to her hands. Bad news, the behavior said, so Shepard made it easy for her. “What’s going on? We know there’s trouble, we just don’t know what.”

Her wife’s eyes rose to meet hers across oceans of space and for just a moment she saw her pain before it submerged into the Shadow Broker. “The Crakador has been destroyed in Omega space.”

The Crakador was the Krogan flagship, she recalled. She blinked as she put it together but Liara was already speaking, already breaking her mood and so very much of the world at the same time.

“My reports say that Urdnot Wrex was aboard.”

She looked over at Ashley and saw the woman’s jaw clenched and her lips pale and tight. The Spectre nodded once in affirmation but said nothing...and for several long moments the car was quiet while shock had its way with them.

“Who...” Shepard managed to say before grief gripped her by the throat.

Liara understood the cryptic, incomplete question and took a breath before answering, “It appears he was betrayed by one of his own. It was a Krogan ship, the Artac, that attacked. It was destroyed shortly after by the rest of Wrex’s entourage.”

The enormity of what this meant for the galaxy was overwhelming, so she pushed it away with a sad exhaled curse.

“I am...so sorry, love,” Liara said tenderly.

Williams finally broke her silence, “That explains the Alliance recall. A Krogan Civil War is gonna create havoc everywhere.”

Shepard spoke over the link again, “Does Bakara know?”

“Yes,” Liara said softly, “Urdnot Grunt has taken command of the remainder of Wrex’s squadron and is returning to Tuchanka. I would assume they are making preparations for war.”

“If I know her, she’s got contingencies in place for this. She knew it was a risk.” Shepard cleared her throat and looked again to the Spectre. “And I assume you’ve gotta get moving. Drop me off at the spaceport?”

Ashley nodded and started the skycar while Shepard spoke to her Omni again. “Can you put together our condolences to Bakara? She’s gonna be way too busy to talk right now. I’ll reach out to Grunt.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “I am putting together all the information I have on who might be responsible. Ashley, I will forward you a copy.” At Shepard’s nod, she added softly, “Will you be going to Tuchanka, then?”

The question went far deeper than that, she knew, a question easily read in Liara’s eyes. Of _course_ she wanted to get involved; this was more than politics, it was _personal_.

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m coming home.” She looked to her left and saw the same anger and determination in Ashley’s face that thrummed in her own pounding heart.

“Don’t worry, Liara,” Ashley offered as she entered traffic once more, “He was one of us. I’m all over this and I’ll let you know if I need anything. In the meantime, you two should go and start your family. If there’s anyone who would understand the importance of that, it was Wrex.”

It was the right decision, Shepard knew without hesitation. So why did it feel so damn wrong?

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Come on, take the shot,” Liara murmured with an expression that wavered between triumph and sweet regret.

Private data of the most valuable kind streamed across her hovering monitors, the pauses in Ausiphea’s communication with her financiers underlining her reticence to commit to the hostile takeover. The Matriarch had no idea she was being monitored; a game of cat and mouse that had once caused Liara no end of apprehension but was now, after the infiltration of hundreds of Asari as or more powerful than she, as routine as the cup of tea on her desk.

The prize over which she and Ausiphea struggled was a small but promising quantum communication peripherals company Liara had acquired two years prior but with this day in mind. The board and R&D department had been groomed and hand picked by her agents, all but ensuring her unmitigated freedom to exploit the technology for the purposes of espionage.

Queries to her sources told her nothing she didn’t already know about the delay. From the Matriarch’s perspective this deal wasn’t just about future technology, it was a death blow to House T’Soni and likely why she hesitated. No matter how favorable the numbers might be this was a sea change in history and Ausiphea wasn’t the type of person to revel in another’s misfortune. It was charming, really.

Ultimately, however, the Matriarch gave the green light. When it was done, Liara waved that set of connections closed and lifted her lukewarm cup to her lips. When it was empty she shifted her the curves of her ponderous misshapen midsection against the opposite side of the chair and stretched. She was free.

It felt right in all the wrong ways and she felt a bit guilty for celebrating anything in light of recent events, but there was no mistaking the lightness of her spirit at the completion of this part of her task. She would still play a subordinate role in all of the companies and political coalitions in which she held a recognized interest, of course, but her family name would be on far fewer lips moving forward, fading into the background much like the white noise coming from her left on feed seven.

Free. Free to pursue the life as a mother she had dreamed about. Well, she admitted to herself as an escalation from MarsGene demanded attention, at least part of the time. She pinged Miranda’s queue and waited for a response but one didn’t come. Odd that. Miranda typically handled their requests.

“Glyph, has Miranda returned from vacation yet?”

“No, Doctor T’Soni,” said the VI’s disembodied voice. “Miranda Lawson’s status is set to ‘Out of Office’. She is expected back in two days, seven hours and 47 minutes.”

Liara resolved not to disturb her with work and nodded to herself. “It’s late. Send MarsGene’s latest to Feron for triage. I’ll look in on it in the morning.”

“Of course, Doctor T’Soni. Entering night mode. Rest well.”

With the dying of the effervescent monitors the room filled with ghostly twilight, periodically brightened by the rise and fall of status lights from her equipment.

Liara’s mind wandered as it often did at this hour, lulled by the sound of distant waves in the dark that crept over, around and through the cavernous house she’d called home for more than a hundred years. That is, when she hadn’t cursed the place or the woman that lived here long before she; the same woman whose memory lingered in her thoughts like the perfume of summer flowers on this night and almost every night after she had chosen to bear offspring.

She wondered if Benezia’s spirit lived on and if so, where it had gone? If there had been any inclination for religious belief clinging to her rigorously skeptical soul it fled after a single conversation with Javik, the last living Asari ‘god’. As much as Liara wanted to hate him for every hurtful word uttered during the brief time she knew him, the truth was that she mourned him alongside her faded, ethereal innocence. So as jaded as she felt, why did she persistently feel her mother’s presence in these moments? Perhaps it was the hormones flooding her body that manufactured the sensation of soft arms enfolding her and warm whispers of reassurance against her crest; or simply a deep-seated need for solace and certainty in the face of the changes in her life that would surely come with Athena’s arrival. Whatever it was, Liara refused to shut the feelings away, clinging to them with quiet stubbornness and a need that had been shamefully neglected while its cure lay within simple reach.

It wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last time the thoughts had circled in her mind unanswered. These late reflections had become, if she were honest with herself, a ritual that gave arguable excuse to stay awake and linger over the day’s business. Athena stirred in silent rebuke then and Liara smiled at what might be their first real disagreement. Her hands slid down over her abdomen and she whispered, “The voice of your father from you already, hmm?”

There was a click from behind where she sat and the warm light of a thousand year old lamp lit the pale corners of Liara’s office. As she started to turn in her chair the sound was followed by the thump and slide of a duffel against the stone floor before the voice for which she had been waiting filled the room.

“She’s telling you to go to sleep, isn’t she?” Shepard grinned while stepping to where she rose ponderously from her seat. “Guess she’s got your brains,” she murmured as they embraced before adding with a smirk, “And my common sense.”

Liara made a face, eliciting a chuckle from her bondmate before they kissed softly. “This from someone who couldn’t put a night of sleep together in ten,” she chided in return.

Shepard shrugged as her hands slid down Liara’s arms and breathed, “Those days are over.”

Liara didn’t need the meld to recognize the tension in her stance or the sharpness in her eyes that had, for the last few years now, been easy to soften.

“I know you are upset by what has happened,” Liara said tenderly, “Do you want to go to Tuchanka, after all?”

Her lover’s jaw clenched and released but she never looked away, eyes still scalpel sharp. “No, I don’t. I’ve waited years for this moment. I want to be right here, with you, when Athena comes.”

Liara considered her quietly, then she said, “You’re taut as a spring. You know I won’t judge you for your feelings, we’ve come too far for that. Talk to me, Jordan.”

The name she so rarely used had the desired effect which was to turn Shepard’s focus inward. She was strong in so many ways but they were muscles designed to effect change outside herself, a wall built to avoid looking at the wreckage of who she had been within. That wall had now been reshapen, buttressed where its failure could cause damage and lowered to allow reflection else.

Shepard dropped her eyes as if they were bore the weight of the world and sighed, “Grunt’s disappointed I’m not coming to mediate. He’s hurting pretty bad.”

If there was anything Liara knew about Grunt it was that ‘disappointed’ was not a category of his emotional spectrum. It was far more likely he reacted as any child would when a parent delayed the address of their need, which is to say with anger, and Shepard would take that reaction as badly as any parent who feels they are failing, which is to say...with guilt. It wasn’t her fault Grunt looked to her for such a bond, the one who had seen him born and given him purpose, having no one else except the Krogan who had given him a name and a place with his people before tragically dying to look to for guidance; but the end result was the same….Shepard had been forced to choose and by that choice someone would suffer.

Liara took Shepard by the hand and began to waddle out the door towards their bedroom at the end of the hall. “His world has been shaken and he needs support from someone he trusts. We’ll arrange a visit as soon as we can." She took a slow step before adding, "I've also sent everything I could find on Clan Dulak to Ashley. I'm certain she'll help the Krogan find the justice they need."

Shepard simply nodded without speaking, her hand sliding down to support the small of her back as they walked, and Liara sighed with more than just relief. The sorrow etched on Shepard’s features cut her to the quick, bringing memories of the Wrex to the fore of her mind like the hot winds that cut endlessly across his ruined homeworld.

“I will….miss him,” she said after a moment and two belabored steps before turning her gaze upon Shepard’s aspect again. “I will miss his gruff advice, even his rage.”

“The sound of his boots on deck,” Shepard murmured nostalgically. “The way he’d laugh in a fight. He was one of a kind. A true friend.” Her eyes slid shut then opened a crack, though Liara guessed she was seeing somewhere else just then...or somewhen. “He changed his world and his people. Who could ever hope to replace him?”

Liara shook her head as they crossed the threshold of their room. “I don’t know. One of his allies, no doubt, but while Wrex changed many of his people’s traditions, I do not believe succession was one of them.”

“Yeah,” Shepard agreed, “Hard to inspire confidence in your abilities if your first priority is arranging your replacement.” Her eyes narrowed as a thought occurred, “He’s got kids though, wouldn’t one of them take over?”

Liara began the long process of getting undressed while Shepard turned down their bed. “There isn’t much information available about their rituals but if memory serves, a new leader is chosen through some kind of competition. A child would not fare well in those conditions, I think.”

Shepard snorted, “Especially if there’s a thresher maw involved.”

When their eyes met their voices immediately chimed together, “And there’s _always_ a thresher maw involved!”

They chuckled fondly even if the sound’s edges were tarnished with grief. A moment later, Shepard’s green eyes had fixed on the expanse of Liara’s iridescent skin as it was revealed. It made Liara preen that her lover could still look at her with such unbidden fascination and she was doubly, triply glad she’d taken Miranda’s advice and had nano-treatment to regenerate skin badly treated by the war and its aftermath. Shepard’s expression softened with love and pride especially at the sight of her swollen abdomen but suddenly Liara could no longer see her face as the fabric of her tunic caught over both her elbows and in front of her eyes.

“Need some help?” Came the cautious question, burnt one too many times by intruding in a moment of hormonal, bloated and ugly pique.

She was on the verge of sighing in defeat when she felt warm fingers slide over her skin, nerves singing in response like piano keys. In moments she was extricated from her prison and eye to eye with Shepard, whose face was lit with tenderness. Liara felt badly about previous bouts of temper just then and cupped her cheek before whispering, “My hero.”

She saw the words transform her lover’s expression into one she saw often, the puffed-up cocksure one that sported crooked grins. It didn’t stay long this time though, sincerity smoothing it over.

“You’re as beautiful as the first day we met,” she said and in Liara’s mind they were suddenly there, the light of ancient technology spilling over the innards of a broken mountain. Shepard’s eyes had been shocked at the sight of her like she’d been dipped in ice water and Liara recalled the lengthy pause before she spoke at all.

That face had etched itself in her brain, keeping her warm through the many cold days to come, but the memory of it now left her wanting for something….missing. Liara lifted a thumb and slid its pad over the length and shape of Shepard’s left eyebrow. When the other brow lifted questioningly Liara smiled.

“I’m glad you think so, and while I am pleased I had all that scarring removed….” she chewed her lower lip _just so_ in the way she usually did when about to ask for something and took pleasure in seeing Shepard smirk, “I was wondering.”

“What about?” she asked archly.

“Do you suppose you would consider _adding_ one?”

That was worthy of a two brow lift, confusion settling in soon after. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you. I remember everything about that day on Therum and especially you. You had a scar...here,” she said with another brush of her thumb. “Do you remember?”

Her eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to her own and she said softly, “I remember,” waiting for a whole moment before putting on another insufferable _I’m-the-greatest_ look. “I guess Garrus was right, chicks do dig scars.”

Liara couldn’t spend long on her feet these days and felt the weight on them now. As if to agree, Athena moved sharply within, the kick leaving a lingering pain low in her abdomen. Her breath caught and Shepard’s humor dimmed. “How did you get it?” Liara asked before sliding out of Shepard’s arms and moving toward the bed. “I don’t think you ever told me.”

Strong arms wrapped around her to assist and gently lowered her into Liara’s normal sleeping ‘hole’, the blankets and pillows set in wilder and wilder configurations over time for her comfort if there was such a thing this far along. Once she was settled it was Shepard’s turn to undress, which never failed to distract and kept to promise now.

“Wish I had a tall tale for it but no,” Shepard said with a shake of autumn hair and a kick until a boot fell to the floor. “Well, the tree was tall, actually, so I guess that counts.” And there was that grin again before it ducked beneath the rise of her shirt, exposing a toned, muscle rippled midsection that begged to be…

“Happened when I was a kid,” she began, voice muffled, “Papa and his brothers took us all down to the…”

But Liara had lost track watching the planes and contours of Shepard’s body take shape against the dim light of the side lamp. There were many reasons she was ready to have this pregnancy finished, good and noble reasons filled with love and affection but this...this wasn’t one of them. Oh how she missed a good, vigorous…

“Why, Dr. T’Soni, what big eyes you have.”

The incongruity of the words through her fogged brain snapped her back to the steady stare of her lover, head propped with one hand and elbow on the pillow beside her.

Liara shrugged with a look that apologized even if she wasn’t sorry at all, just resoundingly uncomfortable and in need of distraction. Shepard took that as a cue to slide closer, reaching out with gentle fingers to stroke the side of her face, down her throat and over a shoulder. Goosebumps rose in their wake and the sensation was indescribably comforting. Shepard always knew just what to do.

“To answer your question, I don’t see why not. I’ll ask Miranda in the morning. Until then?”

“Until then?” Liara repeated, snake charmed.

Shepard’s lips answered, but without words; followed by skin then fingers followed by a touch of teeth and ohh Goddess yes. When she joined her in the meld, Liara assaulted her with everything she couldn’t possibly do to her in the physical world and Shepard greatly approved. Afterward they lingered in the meld together, sleepy but still raw enough from the day’s events to turn one moment of togetherness into another, beads on a necklace running short on chain until they slid down and down into sweet oblivion.

Her dreams were of their wedding, of raised glasses and voices, especially Wrex’s...gravelly and boisterous and perfect, of Garrus in a tuxedo and Tali’ Zorah in a native dress from her homeworld. She dreamed of dancing...moving smoothly over the floor in Shepard’s arms, lips close to one another’s ears and their faces high on smiles. It was beautiful and graceful, their feet barely touching the ground, the tips of their shoes dipping into the surface of the stone to leave expanding ripples that bounced from the walls to cross-hatch one another like vibrations.

The tile turned to waves and their boat cut through them like a blade, Liara’s fingers dragging in the cool water curling off the bow, lithe body stretched along the prow to reach down toward the depths. Behind her Shepard slept, skin burning under Parnitha’s stern gaze without a care in the world. They floated there for what seemed forever, until Liara opened her eyes to behold the water turning darker ahead, a ponderous shape beginning to _move_ beneath the surface, bigger than the sky.

The boat began to speed ahead faster and Liara turned her head to see the bridge unmanned. She shook Shepard to wake her, the white wood beneath them beginning to groan and shudder as they pitched downward, a mighty wave rising behind. When Liara looked ahead of them again, blood cold as death, she saw the great waters turning slowly around a center that pulled at them; a center with Leviathan arms….

She woke shouting and soaked, arms fighting the sheets that circled her; then Shepard was there, holding her and saying soft sleepy words in a dark and quiet room. On the edge of that nightmare she still slipped, a warmth sliding out of her that cut with the same sharpness. It took a moment to come to herself, the small and frightened tendril of being that was Athena alarming her but also injecting a shot of clarity she grasped without hesitation.

“I’ve got you, babe, shhh,” Shepard whispered. “Everything’s okay. Talk to me.”

Liara stilled, her breath coming in deep gasps before a hand reached down between her thighs and into a mass of warm, wet bedding. She made a noise somewhere between exasperation and elation and turned to look at her beloved wife.

“It’s time,” she panted proudly, the chill of fear melting against the warmth of sheer joy. “Athena is coming.”

In an instant, sleep died, winked out of existence with Shepard’s leap from the bed. “Don’t move!” she cried with an imperious finger pointed before shouting unecessarily, “Glyph! Light the BatSignal!”

The ancient earth superhero had been the topic of a drunken discussion between Shepard and Garrus the last time he visited. Liara remembered because it had been a very animated discussion. While she was sleeping.

“Hello, Shepard,” Glyph responded agreeably as it winked _into_ existence above the bed. “Executing ‘Bat Signal’ Program, “ it said, rotating back and forth and changing colors as if it were pleased with itself before continuing, “Calling eeevverrryyooooone!”

Liara laughed and it made Shepard take at least a full breath, doubtlessly preventing her from losing consciousness. When her giggles were joined by Shepard's the last vestiges of her night terror disappeared. Their child was coming...and everything was going to be wonderful.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adding a bit at the end as it was needed. Apologies if you've had to backtrack.

“Actual, Foxtrot and Billy Bob are on standby. Status is green.”

“Roger, Raven Two. You are go for insertion.”

An audible whoop came from the cockpit before the pilot activated his mic, “You hear that, Turner? ETA two mikes.”

“Two mikes, understood!” she acknowledged before standing to open her gear locker.

“Took so long I thought for sure we’d be bingo,” Baptiste said as he joined her, dark eyes bright with anticipation.

“Heh,” she huffed while turning to climb into a large humanoid shaped set of armor hunched into one corner of the shuttle and sealed her helmet. There was a moment of discomfort as the the suit interfaced with the I/O port just beneath her left ear, but it was soon over. “You want ‘em to be sure we’re stepping on the right dirtball, don’tcha?”

“Oh I dunno,” he said with a calm, comforting drawl, “These new suits are so comfy I could stand a Sunday drive.”

They spent the remaining eighty ticks running through test cycles, their voices giving verbal affirmation to various stages for the record. When they finished, Turner took a mechanized step toward the cargo hatch and hit the button with a mailed fist.

As the door to the cockpit slid shut and the rear of the shuttle began to depressurize, Baptiste stepped up beside her and stowed his weapons.

When the hatch opened into space, the outstretched surface of the planet so bright white their viewfinder filters engaged, Turner pursed her lips.  “That,” she said with a slow release of breath, “Ain’t no Sunday drive.”

“You think Kravorog is really down there?”

She shrugged, “Intel’s Spectre level.” They looked at each other for a moment before returning their gaze to the frozen sphere beneath them. “I mean,” she said, “If you were trying to hide from ‘em, where would you go?”

“Down a really, really dark hole,” he breathed, then keyed his mic. “Hawks are perched, Yama.”

“You are cleared for HALO infil,” the pilot replied. “Grid has been updated and good hunting.”

“Roger that.”

Turner took two large steps forward, disengaged her maglock and pushed off the deck, aiming her helmet at the horizon with small bursts of maneuvering thrusters while waiting for navigation on her heads-up. In less than a second the shuttle had left them, the planet and surrounding space lit with lines, grid points and flight and threat info. She quickly located the target area and selected the most likely place they could land without being seen.

“At your seven,” she heard Baptiste say.

“Course is 265. Initiating burn in three, two, one, burn.”

Once they corrected their course and set their speed the thrusters went silent as did the rest of the world, the idea being obscurity from anyone happening to observe. Their current speed would put them into the atmosphere in just a few minutes and at a velocity that wouldn’t generate any kind of sonic event. If anyone just happened to look into their small spot in the sky they would appear to be meteorites streaking before disappearing from view.

The rest was just falling, really, until it wasn’t; and that slow feeling of acceleration usually caused a lingering, clawing sense of dread as the planet grew beyond the sides of one’s visor. Kat loved it, though. It felt like freedom; like...possibility.

Their descent was smooth, details of the surface becoming clearer as they approached with the LZ still close to the horizon. White mountains began to speed by; white plains, all covered in ice, yet the lakes over which they sailed still liquidly reflected the light from Asgard above. That wasn’t water down there and it wasn’t the air she was accustomed to breathing that gathered in a beige haze close to the ground. Nitrogen and ethane, their briefing detailed. Poisonous. Cold.

The temperature gauge in her heads-up spiked just as she heard Baptiste confirming re-entry. Coolant systems hissed and the air around them began to glow as their shields violently encountered Tyr’s atmosphere, slowing them for their long arced approach. Soon after the glow disappeared and they began to fall in earnest, wind racing past them both audibly. Kat grinned and extended her arms out wide. Angled vents detached from the back of her suit and she felt aerodynamic lift turn that fall into a semi-glide, controlled and on-target.

Turner simply thought about engaging stealth-mode and her armor obliged; the colors on her forearms and gauntlets beginning to undulate and change. She pulled one arm back to her chest and balled a fist, watching her fingers curl white against the backdrop of the planet’s surface. From below her she knew she’d be a burnt, orange-beige now, the same color as a Tyrian sky.

“We’ve entered the habitable zone,” Baptiste reported as the colors below them and extending to the LZ became a tad warmer.

A bit more brown, a bit less white, she thought as she tilted her head back and forth. “Well damn, I forgot my bikini,” she said with a smirk.

She heard him chuckle then sober, “Um, I got heat signatures around the LZ.”

“Not supposed to be life here. You sure? Are they tangos?”

There was a pause while they flew and he finally replied, “Sigs ain’t matching Krogan physiology. This is somethin’ else.”

“Big?”

“Mid-size. Bigger than a dog but smaller than a ….bear?”

“That sounds human-sized to me,” Turner growled.

“Well they’re on all fours, so..” Baptiste explained.

Turner sighed and relaxed. While unusual, these kind of discoveries weren’t unheard of, especially on planets inhospitable enough to put off exploration. “Roger that. Let’s steer ‘round ‘em. We’ll get some data if we have time.” She envisioned a course correction and watched their vector divert on her viewfinder. Who knows, she thought, the data might even be valuable.

“That’s better,” he declared as his own onboard nav followed suit. “All clear.”

Kat’s eyes focused on a blinking notification. “Flight deck in sixty seconds, Billy Bob. Prepping jets.”

“Prepping jets, aye,” her spotter rotely responded.

The land around them was zipping by at this point and their trajectory was strictly downhill. Any mistakes could be fatal and adrenaline made her veins sing, but Kat forced herself to wait until her vector turned full red before pulling up to use gravity as a brake. She could feel the success in her bones as strong as the pull of the ground; nobody would be able to see them this low. When she slowed sufficiently she stretched her arms down by her side, fingers spread wide, and a blast of blue flame spat downward from several small exits in the back of her metal exoskeleton.

Half a ton of mechanized armor lowered to the ground like a feather buoyed by a breeze and her knees barely bent at touchdown. It was a perfect landing. She turned carefully, the suit’s ‘wings’ beginning to slowly retract, and saw Baptiste also settling to the frozen ground. She barked a laugh and began to decouple the entry gear while her companion pumped a fist.

“That ride never gets old,” he chuckled while scanning the area.

The rockets had scattered most of the fog that clung to the ground, though it began to seep back in shortly after, slowly engulfing the scattered ice-rimed rocks at their feet, and a wall of it rose at least twenty meters above them in all directions, making it difficult to see anything outside the small space they occupied.

Fortunately they didn’t need to. Baptiste’s sensors relayed what they saw to Turner’s suit, and their viewfinders automatically adjusted to wavelengths that could best penetrate the opacity. It then translated what the human eye couldn’t see into holographic representations of objects around them. The technology of these new sets of armor was fifty years ahead of what they had during the war thanks to advances gleaned from the Reaper data hoard, and the irony wasn’t lost on anyone who’d survived the apocalypse.

With the entry gear detached from their armor they were smaller and sleeker and with stealth mode engaged they could sometimes only see one another as a hologram in the fog. Turner watched Baptiste turn toward the target he so eagerly sought while that gear folded and shrank into unassuming cubes. There it would stay camouflaged and silent until it could be picked up for refueling.

“‘Bout five clicks out,” he grunted while extracting a beat up Mattock from where it was slung in a backplate.

Kat just shook her head and scoffed, “Really? You broke regs for that thing? You must get off on hot angry breath in your face.”

Her partner just inserted a thermal clip and let the muzzle hang defiantly. “I get to smell that breath each and every time because of this baby rightc’here. Don’t you throw in with them now!” he declared with furrowed brows. “It don’t suit ya.”

“Just watch my back, old man,” she grinned while unslinging her ASUM sniper rifle, “I come home with so much as a scratch I’m pitching that thing out a damn airlock.”

Turner set off in the direction indicated by their suits and heard the heavy steps of Baptiste behind her.

“Make you kiss the ground first!!” came the retort, tainted with exertion.

“Never happen,” she laughed as they picked up speed, multicolored obstacles sliding by in her peripheral.

They made good time. When their illuminated target grew and changed color indicating proximity they began to slow. What appeared to regular vision as vague lumps and small hills between clouds of toxic gas turned into holographic caverns and corridors outlined below the surface.

“There’s movement around the entrance. Sentries by the look of it,” he said with his head and eyes fixed on something ahead.

Turner nodded and turned to slowly circle the complex, both keeping a sharp eye while she searched for her spot. She was methodical and discarded several sites along the way, once because they saw heat signatures that turned out to be a herd of the creatures Baptiste spotted on the way down. If they weren’t so close to their objective they might have investigated but she refused to take any chance of a negative response from the creatures that could alert others to their presence. Instead they froze, prone at extended range, until the creatures moved away. Finally, after more than an hour’s search, they found a likely position; some rough boulders piled to offer cover and an elevated view a couple of kilometers away from their target.

“This’ll do,” she said gruffly before taking a knee by the rocks and beginning to set a shooting position.

 

 

Twenty-seven hours later, little had changed but the blanket of icy particulate on the ground in front of them.

“Gawd this tastes like baby shit.”

“You picked the flavor, genius,” Kat teased while her eye was peeled through her scope at two Krogan exiting a sealed entrance into the tunnels. “I mean, I went with vanilla but...whatever tickles your pickle.”

He chuckled, but he really wasn’t wrong. The nutrient shakes coming through tubes in their helmet scarcely tasted as they'd been advertised but at least it kept them going.

Turner shifted where she lay on her stomach, curling her feet and flexing her calves and quads for relief while she watched for any sign of their target in the place they’d affectionately named ‘Turtletown’.

There’d been no sign of Kravorog but several members of his krantt had come and gone, confirming the location as a POI. Nothing in the last hour had changed her mind about targets, though, and with a chew of her lip she admitted as much.

“Your call,” Baptiste said unnecessarily, no doubt enjoying the sound of his own voice in a place where the only other noise was the wind and your own breathing.

She sighed and with a thumb, selected her ammo. “Going with the bedbug. Spot me on that crosswind, will ya?”

“Roger.” She heard him settle and she waited for him to link up with her scope. “Lock and load,” he said in a low voice when he was set.

“See ‘em?” she asked.

“Target at Sector Two Bravo, walking ahead at forty-five degrees with secondary contact to his nine,” came the suddenly professional voice.

“Contact,” she replied right away. “Dispersion check?”

“One point four meters,” he called after a moment’s pause.

She leaned in and turned a dial on her rifle, then followed the fully armored and environmentally suited Krogan as they walked, talking to one another and gesturing amiably. They were heading for another entrance at the eastern edge of the clearing, a semi-circular depression with the entrance to multiple caverns on the other side. They were only seconds away now; she’d have to be precise.

“Ready,” she said clearly. There could be no misinterpretation here.

Less than two seconds later came the words she’d been waiting for. “Left, two point seven.”

She adjusted her crosshairs right, completely past the Krogan she was aiming at, and fired.

Her round took almost eight seconds to arrive, long enough for her to take a full breath after the long pause while she pulled the trigger and start another. It popped in the air with almost no sound at all, just bits of debris that immediately swept left in the wind...and across both Krogan.

“Direct hit,” her spotter confirmed and Kat nodded in satisfaction.

Both Krogan stopped and looked to their right to see what the sound had been, but after a few seconds’ inspection shrugged and carried on, oblivious to the microscopic surveillance spiders crawling over their suits and finding appropriate places to settle where they’d be least likely to be disturbed. Several more bedbugs missed their target and landed on the ground around the path the Krogan walked. They’d spread out and around, looking for crannies best suited for their purpose...or simply squat and record once they ran out of fuel. In this environment, nobody trundling along in an environment suit would even notice the tiny bots among the rocky terrain, especially if they had no reason to think they were there.

The pair of Krogan entered the next den without incident and both the Marines triumphantly activated their feeds to watch what the bugs saw. It was a bit chaotic until the pair got through the airlock but cleared up quickly after. They were even kind enough to remove and leave their bugged helmets near the door so the Alliance could have a nice view of everyone coming and going while their unwitting spies walked deeper into the complex.

“No net,” Kat said with a smirk while uploading the unit addresses to Raven Two.

“We’re in business,” Baptiste agreed then paused before continuing, “But it also looks like our friends are back.”

Turner sighed. These creatures were beginning to become an annoyance. “Close?”

“Edge of sensor range but closing.”

“Random pattern or on an intercept?”

“Not sure,” he said with a mix of concern and curiosity, then looked over to her, “I know you’re silenced but they might’ve heard the rifle report from that distance.”

She swore under her breath and called up her partner’s longview to see them coming while switching ammo. When he turned his helmet toward her in silent question she explained in a voice that was suddenly quiet and cold, “You ever heard of a wild animal running _toward_ a gunshot?”

“Shiiiit,” he groaned when realization hit then dropped to a knee behind the wall of their camouflaged hole behind her. His Mattock raised then lowered with a thump onto the piled rocks before he clicked off the safety. “Raven two, this is Billy Bob. Be advised, we may have enemy contact, over.”

The problem with gathering intelligence is that you typically have to go somewhere no one is supposed to be. Sometimes that means you’ve just got brass balls and are showing off in an active theatre but other times….other times you’re someplace you’re not supposed to be for political reasons, reasons that mean nobody on your team will admit they ever sent you there in the first place or they lose points. This was one of those times. The second kind. The Alliance soldiers didn’t expect a reply to their communication and didn’t get one, but it was important that Raven knew. Just in case.

Turner took up position where their foxhole curved by her right side and rested her rifle there.

“I count….twenty three,” he said in a wooden voice.

“Focus on the left half and I’ll focus on the right,” Turner tersely replied. Emotion got you nothing in the suck. “Bring down the leaders, they’re big enough to slow the ones behind.”

“Grenades?” he asked with his hand wandering to his belt.

Kat chewed her lip again. The cameras were in place now without the Krogans’ knowledge. If there was any hope of not tipping off their presence at this point, grenades would literally blow it away. She steeled herself for what that meant, then said it with a taut jaw. “Negative.”

He grasped what that meant as well as she and they were both silent for a span before tightening their grip resolutely on the weapon in front of them.

“Give ‘em hell, Bembe,” she said, saying his first name meaningfully.

“Aayy-ffirmative,” he said calmly while the shapes began to appear as holograms through the fog. The holos couldn’t supply any real detail but they could see that they were big. Big like cattle big. There was no longer any doubt...the herd of beasts was headed straight for them at a run. Their bodies were heavily muscled in the front and they had large heads that hung low enough to ram whatever was in front of them.

Turner had no desire to see what that might look like in action and lined up a shot to the right of one of those ponderous heads. If they were built to ram they might have armor and she wasn’t about to waste a round. She let fly as soon as she had a shot and saw it stumble then fall, tripping one of the creatures behind it. The others swept around it and picked up speed, though. They knew exactly where she and Baptiste were now.

She dropped three more before they could get into Baptiste’s range, then switched her rifle to automatic fire.

Even silenced, his Mattock barked when it opened up to her left. Her rifle then joined his and the stampede began to slow on the right but not on the left, her ammo apparently able to penetrate whatever armor the creatures had while his was not. She saw him switching to shotgun moments before the line broke over his wall.

Things went south pretty quickly, after that.

“Back up!” she yelled, and they quickly clambered up and out of their foxhole, their temporary home in this inhospitable world becoming a pit for their attackers to drop into before having to scale the wall to reach them. From this position, their combined firepower made it into a death trap for several of the creatures.

She could see them better now but her brain was more focused on targeting than any kind of scientific curiosity. She saw that their skin came in different colors as they streamed into their clearing. Red, orange, green…. Their blood was purple when it splashed and their eyes...their eyes were wide and white when they got within arm’s reach. White, through and through. They’d come around the pit now and she could hear Baptiste grunt, then saw him bash one of them in the face with the butt of his shotgun in her peripheral vision.

Turner turned her rifle on one of the creatures that slid around behind Baptiste and she opened fire on it just as it raked back her partner’s head with three wicked claws. It fell to the side but the swipe was, unfortunately, still enough to pull him down. Baptiste rolled to his back and blasted upward with his shotgun at another attacker in a direct hit before the full weight of it landed atop him and he fell out of sight.

Those claws! They were identical to a Krogan’s hand, she could swear! But then she was rammed from the side and had no time to think. The massive head lifted, cords of muscle running down the neck and back, launching her into the air and just out of the creature’s late slash of its own claws as she flew. To land would be to have its full fury upon her, so she instinctively twisted on the way down so that she could roll and roll and roll away. She pulled the rifle to her body as she spun and then pushed hard against the rocky ground to give her a backward boost to her feet. She was immediately forced to dodge a claw and pulled the rifle low against her hip before squeezing the trigger. The creature staggered, this one a sickly yellow color, but it shrugged off the shot through its abdomen and leapt at her again. At the same time, she heard Baptiste, screaming.

Kat rolled to the side, activated her cloak and scrambled to her feet in a sprint back toward her spotter. In the back of her mind she knew it wasn’t a good call. There was likely nothing she could do even if she got to him in time but what else was she going to do? Try and outrun them all? She wasn’t about to leave him behind, even if their destination was the afterlife.

She heard him scream again as she got back to the site and saw two of the creatures pulling him in opposite directions by his limbs. She leveled her rifle at the nearest head as she ran and she could see the resemblance, now; the same brow and jaw, even if the coloring and teeth were different….these were Krogan. Krogan that could survive where nothing should. Her heart hammered in her chest and time slowed while she aimed… but watched in horror as his leg in full armor came apart from his torso, the crack of the shot and the hole sprouting in the beast’s head coming too late to spare Baptiste from a grisly end.

“Bembe!” she yelled, drowned out by the pain and terror in his voice while her momentum carried her toward the Krogan holding his detached leg by the ankle. Her cry was desperate, the last syllable carried long in anger and grief until she connected the fat end of her rifle with the thing’s leering face. The momentum of that cybernetically enhanced blow crushed its nose into a spray of lavender and it stumbled backward, releasing Baptiste before rising up on its hind legs, higher and higher until it towered twice her height, then took in a great breath before roaring at her in animal fury. By every god ever named the thing was huge! She saw movement all around them now, including Baptiste as he writhed in pain and suffocation, his personal atmosphere now full of poisonous gas. There were too many around her for the number they’d brought down. Unless maybe they hadn’t really brought them down? A quick count showed more than fifteen left. Too many...just...too many.

"Get....outta.....here...." Bembe gasped as he lay dying with his body going into painful convulsions. "Kat! Get out!"

One of the shapes became fully visible as it dragged in the corpse of one of its companions, dropping its heavy leg to the ground with a thud as the herd surrounded her. She remembered killing that one, for certain, but there it stood just the same. Her own upgrades could heal serious damage in days instead of months, hours instead of days, but that thing had no armor and two rounds put in it at short range. It shouldn't be up and certainly shouldn't be dragging damn near six hundred kilograms in a matter of minutes. When the Krogan all stood on two legs instead of four, knowing the chase was over, it suddenly occurred her that they were naked. All male. Was this some kind of ritual, she wondered? Some tradition they’d interrupted?

The giant leader blew forcefully out of its nose and a clump of clotted purple ooze fell to the ground. It sized her up for a moment, the pause pregnant, and she took that precious moment, likely one of the last before her inevitable death, to point her weapon at Baptiste’s head and grant her friend a final mercy.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly before pulling the trigger.

The rest was violence...and the numb darkness of defeat.

 

She woke to the coppery taste of blood on her tongue and shortly afterward the realization that she couldn’t hear the steady rasp of her own breath in her ears. That meant no helmet. Was she out of her armor? She tried opening her eyes to find out and was alarmed when only the right one managed the job.

For a long moment she was elsewhere among crumbled buildings and demolished people, drawing jagged glass breath while waiting doubtfully for medical transport. The cries and moans of the dead and dying always dimmed after awhile, the only thing wanted alongside sweet life itself being peace and quiet; but the noise came back louder each time they heard that terrifying Reaper sound, the one they made while taking everything away from someone...somewhere, and their miserable cacophony took on the hopeless flavor of dread.

But she wasn’t in the wet, sour smelling jungles of Brazil anymore, another panicked breath confirmed with dry, acrid certainty; and the same icey calm that brought her through that hell five years ago asserted itself again deep within and brought forth the question that most needed asking.

Where was she, then?

Her surroundings were dim and having only the one eye able to peer into them made it difficult. She was on her back on a table and just to her right was a tall pane of glass separating where she lay from the larger room beyond. An attempt to sit up made it clear that she was strapped down, and stretching the restraints caused a soft alarm to sound. 

The alarm brought an Asari woman around the corner, her brow knit in concern. “Oh dear, you aren’t supposed to be awake yet. Just relax, alright?”

Kat did relax a bit at the sight of her and watched her fiddle with a machine nearby. “What happened?” she asked groggily, the words not forming quickly or well. “Something’s wrong with my eye.”

The asari smiled warmly and moved to her side. “Nothing we can’t fix. Just give it some time.”

Her vision went soft again as the drugs kicked in. There were things she wanted to ask but they didn’t seem very important anymore. She turned her head to watch the attendant as she moved away and noticed something she couldn’t make much sense of. Her left arm was lifted, palm up and presented on a higher platform, the skin spread and splayed to reveal the bone and sinew inside. That was intriguing, for sure, but as she followed the limb back toward her shoulder she became confused. It wasn’t attached to her, at all. This all had to be a dream, she thought. Just a bad dream. She willed it to be a husk dream, again. She knew how to kill Husks in her dreams.

“I thought you corrected the dosage,” Came a new voice from the door. A much larger figure, this time. Krogan Female.

“I did, Ma’am.” The Asari replied. “Her physiology is simply adjusting. I’m keeping her under close observation.”

“See that you do,” was the reply as she turned to depart, “Kravorog is expecting my report, mid-week.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

_ Grunt had lost his goddamn mind. It was the only possible explanation. _

Jack reached to her right with a clench of her blue, glowing fist and dropped a heavy canister on one of the assassins out for Aria’s blood. How stupid could you be to just stand there and aim? She lifted and dropped it on him again on principle, a grin breaking across her face at the audible thump.

_ I mean look at me  _ , she thought.  _ Do I  _ look  _ like somebody who’s gonna convince anyone to sing kumbaya? _

“Jack!” Aria snapped, and Jack focused in time to see the grenade dropping behind them in a graceful arc.

“Shit,” she growled and batted it back where it came from with a Shockwave that turned over all the fine furniture they’d just passed, followed by a frustrated, “Fuck!” at the crystalline scream of dying fragile items. She’d had to listen to dozens of lessons about the preservation of valuables and intelligence and  _ self-fucking-control  _ and just knew there was a lecture waiting for her when they got back to the club.

Aria was more focused on her own demolition than Jack’s at the moment though, striding with tall lethality toward the shifty-eyed double-crossing arms dealer who just found himself alone under his desk. Jack took that as a cue to finish off the coward(s) slinging explosives behind them. She paused behind a wall and waited for the one she’d returned to sender to go off, then raised her barrier and slid into a wall of smoke and debris.

Jack had long ago gotten used to the red and purple shift of hidden objects to her bio-mechanical eyes and could see her prey withdrawing with a sharp limp through the thick smoke. Maybe he’d got a taste of his own shrapnel? Her adrenaline spiked and she picked up the pace, blood tingling for another kill.

_ Maybe he  _ wanted  _ her to fail,  _ she pondered as she prowled  _. Give Urdnot an excuse to finish the sonsobitches off?  _ The idea made her brain hurt, but it was just the sort of thing she’d come to expect from people in high places. People like Aria. People like Miranda.

A pang of longing came and went at the thought of the woman, making Jack both angry and sad at the same time. Definitely not the right time to be dwelling on their split, but just thinking about the complexity of her ex made it clear that Grunt wasn’t and couldn’t ever be in  _ her  _ league. Chances of him trying to manipulate her? About zero.

Her quarry’s trail took her through a darkened warehouse area and toward a staircase marked exit. For a moment Jack thought she spotted some movement in the spreading smoke and paused, all her senses searching for it. When she heard a grunt of exertion behind her she spun, almost quick enough to dodge the blade aimed at her back. The edge still punched through a gap between her chest and leg plates and pain blossomed brightly there. Her finishing spin brought her face to face with the surprised attacker, a slender shape in armor who withdrew the blade and slashed again with lightning quickness.

Jack’s frantic biotic lift on the woman managed to keep her own head on her shoulders, the swinging blade passing harmlessly above. As the assassin flailed in the air high above her, Jack took a step back and grinned wolfishly before her left arm glowed blue and reached out with a perfectly placed Lash. It yanked the assassin back down to earth at high speed, leaving her in a tangle of bruised limbs on the ground in front of her, blade clanging loosely nearby.

She could feel the pleasure building in the back of her head now, the tingles waiting to spread through her scalp and down her back like an orgasm in reverse. It always made her want to hurry but she’d learned real quick that chasing that tiger while someone else might be angling for her led to bad things.

She put a gloved hand around her side to the wound instead and it came back wet and slick with her own blood. She looked around for anyone else in the vicinity before stepping toward the wannabe killer who was trying to pull herself off the floor. A swift augmented kick to her ribs convinced her to roll on her back instead, coughing and lifting her hands in surrender.

As Jack pointed the barrel of her sidearm at the woman’s eyes all the old feelings spilled out from whatever fucking hole they disappeared into when it was quiet. She wrestled with all the pros and cons and calculations of the deed, wrapped neatly in the guilt Shepard had worked so hard to plant in her on the Normandy. All of Shepard’s  _ reasons  _ and all those youthful faces looking to her to be some kind of  _ model  _ towered inside when all she wanted….all she really wanted was to feel good again.

After the gun went off she sighed and gave in to it for a second. Keeping an eye on that staircase door took an edge off the racing icey  _ bliss  _ that settled in all over and made her shiver in appreciation, but yeah. Yeah….killing a surrendering opponent might be wrong, but this cunt was no source of vital information, no political bargaining chip, nothing useful at all, just a waste of flesh like thousands before her who ran into that inevitable someone  _ better  _ .

And maybe that’s all it was, she thought as she straightened and headed back to Aria’s side with an afterglow that possibly only she in the universe had ever felt, the one gift from Cerberus that kept on giving and didn’t die in a wreck of overreaching failure. Maybe all Grunt really needed was an edge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talking to Aria about this stuff was a proverbial two edged sword, cutting you no matter how you went about it. She had to broach the subject because number one Aria could refuse the extra time off and two, maybe she could give her some advice. Aria was such a bitch, though. Any advice would come with a hefty side of criticism and ridicule but as far as Jack was concerned she was usually a  _ smart and fair  _ bitch. Jack always knew where she stood, no bullshit, and that was alright. The problem was, if Aria decided to be  _ possessive  _ bitch or her famous  _ can’t be bothered  _ bitch today she’d either have to up and quit this gig or shut up and leave Grunt hanging. She’d normally have asked Miri about how to go at it first, but Jack must’ve burnt that bridge pretty good...she hadn’t returned  _ any  _ of her calls. So Jack chewed her lip and tried to think of the best way to bring it up as they rode back to Afterlife, one-sided arms agreement from the humiliated weapons dealer in hand.

“So….about my vacation,” she started lamely after her boss disconnected a call to Bray about shipments and the onboarding of new ‘recruits’.

“Patched things up already?” Aria asked with a sidelong smile, “That was quick. Who’s going down on whom in apology?” When Jack clenched her jaw, Aria laughed, “Well that answers that question.”

“Actually,” Jack said in as neutral a voice as possible, “Something else came up. I’m gonna need more time than I scheduled for the Virmire thing.”

“How much more?” Aria replied, her body growing momentarily still. That was Possessive bitch’s danger signal. Shit.

“Got a friend with some drama spiraling is all,” she said with fake disinterest, “If I get there quick I can nip it in the bud.”

Aria deactivated her omni and turned her full attention to Jack then, hands folded across a knee. Her eyes didn’t even settle on Jack’s face for long, but took in everything about her; how she was seated, what her hands were doing, if her foot was tapping the floor...she  _ read  _ her in an instant and damn Jack hated that. She found herself weighed and when she gave a moment’s thought to what’d just came out of her mouth realized she’d fucked up right outta the gate.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Aria purred, a smile curling the left side of her lip in a way that said she was pleased at the slip, “But go ahead. Tell me more.”

The look in Aria’s eyes was the same one she wore when she was ready to tear anything Jack said to pieces...one of her favorite pastimes. “Forget it,” Jack responded irritably, “I’m not in the mood for your shit.”

Aria shrugged lightly and settled back in her seat, “Alright. How much time do you need?”

Jack shook her head, “I’m...not sure.”

“Guess.” Aria said without a moment’s hesitation.

She paused and chewed her bottom lip again. The texture was rough from ill-treatment and a loose piece of skin tantalized her tongue. Without thinking, she took it between her teeth and pulled until it came loose, the taste of blood following on its heels. She sucked on it in thought, the small sting helping her focus. Hell, she figured, if her trip took longer than her guess then it must be fucking important, right? If Aria said no to an extension then she’d just quit. No big deal.

“A month,” she said, finally.

Aria’s eyes narrowed and her face grew hard, “The Freedom Festival is in three weeks.”

“It’s a  _ festival  _ , boss. Bray’ll be here, you’ll be fine.”

Aria leaned toward her, eyes widening, “There’ll be more anarchists on this rock than we get tourists in a year. I need you here, this is precisely what I pay you for.”

Possessive bitch it was, then. Great. “Oh bullshit. You pay me for what I did back there,” she said with a jerk of her thumb behind her, “Not for arm candy. Don’t you have some Eclipse on hand for this shit?”

“Jack,” the Asari said in a frosty tone, “You’ve got two choices. One,” she said as she held her thumb aloft, “You can tell me what’s important enough to take you away for a full month, or two,” an option with her forefinger held high, “You can pack up and see who else will pay you as much as I do when those talents come along with your mouth.”

And so..here they were, just like every replay of the thing she did in her head beforehand. Yay clairvoyance? Jack sighed, dropping her chin in frustration. “Fine,” she said, “I’m going to Tuchanka.”

Aria looked incredulous. “Tuchanka,” she repeated slowly, like she wasn’t sure she heard right. “Why is that?”

Jack sighed again, knowing there was no way to say it that wasn’t going to get her laughed at. “Grunt..” she stopped, then started again, “The Krogan asked me to come mediate between Urdnot and the clan that killed Wrex.”

A smile grew wide on Aria’s purple face, “The Krogan asked  _ you  _ to be an envoy of peace?” Her chuckle was rich and deep with amusement, “That’s either going to be the greatest story ever told….or the greatest  _ story  _ ever told.” Her voice grew sharp at the end of that sentence, a clear warning. “Why you?”

“Because Shepard said no?” she answered with a grimace, then outstretched a lazy palm. “I don’t know why. All I know is they’re pissed off enough over there to kill each other and they figure I can’t do worse than that.”

Aria went quiet then, looking out the window of the skycar as it raced through the twisting passages that approached the upper levels. She was quiet so long that Jack wanted to interrupt it, get an answer...take off the pressure she felt building like a vice in the back of her neck.

“If you’re telling me the truth, this is a big deal,” Aria said finally, almost a whisper, then turned to look at her again. “You know that, right?”

The car stopped and her driver waited for her customary exit. She made no such move though, only lifting a chin at him to depart, which he did without a word.

The silence in the skycar was almost as oppressive as Aria’s steady gaze, and Jack suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Yeah, I get it,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“You ‘get it’.” Aria repeated with a smirk before leaning in closer for emphasis, “You get that the decisions they make in the next few weeks, decisions heavily weighed by your actions, may determine the future of the Krogan race? That whoever ends up in charge in that hellhole may or may not decide to try conquering the rest of us? That a war of that magnitude could give the Reapers a run on body count?”

Jack snorted, “Christ, no pressure or anything. You act like I’m a kid with a hand grenade.”

“Because you  _ are  _ ,” the asari enunciated carefully.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it,” Jack growled, her temperature rising, “I quit. Okay? Is that what you want?”

Aria leaned back against the side panel of the car with that stupid, insufferable, know-it-all smile of hers. “That’s not what I said. You’ve got your month.”

Something in the way she said it though, something in the way she looked at her said she wasn’t finished. “But?” Jack pre-empted.

“But,” Aria crooned, “There’s something else you need to do while you’re there. Something for  _ us  _ .”

“Alright,” Jack murmured, her forehead knotting with suspicion.  “I’m listening.”

  
  


She played loud music as she packed just to drown out the thoughts in her head. As much as she liked Grunt and as much as she was flattered by the ask she was already regretting saying yes and hadn’t even made it out the damn door yet. There were a lot of people expecting things from her and she didn’t know how she’d accomplish any of them; which is precisely why she hated responsibility in the first place. But as she walked to the spaceport, bag slung over her shoulder, she realized that part of her problem was she’d gotten way too accustomed to asking for help from a certain someone she was purposefully not thinking about, which left her feeling even more alone in the whole mess. Nope, she was on her own this time, so she did her level best to remember that they had in fact asked  _ her, _ right? They knew what they were getting..so why should she be the one feeling doubt? 

She prepped her shuttle and departed, purposefully building a sense of pride about the whole thing just to keep her from bailing on it. There was one reliable source of advice she could get, after all, and that was from the person who’d already turned down the job; so Jack laid in a course for Thessia. If Shepard wasn’t going to help she could at least give her some fucking direction; and having a Shadow Broker there wouldn’t hurt her chances, either.Just thinking about Shadow Brokers brought her imagination back to a raven-haired beauty with ice-blue eyes, but before she could shut the thought away it occurred to her that Miranda wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see the new T’Soni kid. Maybe she’d be there, too. She hated the sense of hope it gave her. The woman was probably laughing at her...that it took as long as it did for Jack to break it off. Stringing her along for years….making her think they’d actually have something together when all she wanted to do was..

“God dammit!” she swore into the empty cockpit before continuing in a growl that ended up a shout, “Do you fucking...hear yourself?!” 

She shook her head in disgust and ran rough fingernails through her hair from the front of her scalp to the back. She sighed slowly then, listing all the ways she was stupid in a low voice before finally relaxing and calling up a playlist. These feelings were like some kind of disease. Every time she thought she was past it all she’d cough up her heart again, fresh and beating in her hands so she could dash it against a wall. If there was one good thing about this trip and all it’s complicated prospects it was that she’d have less time to run herself through this endless emocoaster.

After hitting the first relay she set the shuttle on auto; not much to see in the Eagle Nebula and Eclipse and the Blood Pack knew better than to give her pause. In the meantime she sent Grunt a message, not really in the mood to talk to anyone vid to vid.

 

:> _ Grunt, I’m otw but making a stop on Thessia to see Shep + the new kid. Anything you want from this place? You like Asari spirits?  _

 

Thoughts about Asari turned to Aria and then...helpfully...to the meditation techniques she’d taught her.. The point of it all was to give her finer control over her biotics and that had been a success, though she hadn’t quite got to the point where she could sling singularities around. She also found it gave her the ability to put thoughts away when they were unhelpful so that’s where she put it to work now.

It’s not like she didn’t _know_ what the problem was in their relationship; it’s that there was nothing she could do about it. Put your own shit aside for Miranda and that’s too clingy. Don’t put your own shit aside for her you wait a goddamned eternity for her to show any interest. If you show any interest in something else while she ignores you...then you’ve moved on. Well? She was finally moving on, right? If Miranda didn’t do anything about it then it was over….and Miranda didn’t seem to be doing squat at this point. Simple. She wasn’t really interested in her and had probably never been. Who could blame her, really? After a taboo fling what was left? House and white picket fence? Long nights drinking that swill she called fine wine and talking about philosophy or some shit? Adopt a bunch of kids that piss themselves like Garrus and Tali did? Yeah, death first.

Jack needed to move. Needed to work. She was like a shark that way...swim or die. Miranda was like that in her own way too. One of their few things in common, they were literally designed for a purpose. Unless Jack was suddenly able to grow another brain or Miranda go on the run from the authorities again though...their paths simply weren’t going to cross anymore; and Jack refused to pine away for something that never fucking was. Except that’s exactly what she was doing. Constantly. Aria was probably right as she infuriatingly often was. She should have just moved on without saying a word, leaving the door open for Miranda to come to her for a fucking change. Woulda coulda shoulda.

Her eyes were drawn to a flashing reply on her Omni.

 

:> _ Don’t know. Try them all and bring me the best. _

 

Jack grinned to herself at the challenge and whispered, “Can do.”

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

It was like a dream, a really good daydream you have when it looks like the world is crashing down on you and your mind escapes to this one perfect unattainable thing. It’s a promise to yourself that rises above all the fatigue and pain, a promise of what will come if you just push a little harder and take another step. Part of you doubts it anyway but if it’s a lie you cling to it with all your strength because the alternative is unthinkable. So actually being there….looking around yourself and seeing it become really real is a bizarre experience, disjointed because it’s inextricably paired with that before time and tarnished with disbelief.

It made the iced mint tea in her glass taste intoxicating and the salt air smell sweet. The sound of children playing in the grass and the chatter of friends was more musical to her than anything coming from the entertainment center on the elegant stone porch where they sat, while the soft hand clasped in hers warmed her more than the summer sun moving slowly above. Shepard found herself unable to speak in these moments, every cell in her body attuned in blissful experience. In a moment the spell would be broken as it always was, but why hasten it?

She could feel concern from Liara who was leaning against her, head on shoulder. Whenever their skin touched they enjoyed a gentle sense of mutual awareness and her wife must have noticed a change in her mood, a subtle withdrawal while she watched her own life like it was some kind of vid. Shepard turned and pressed her lips gently to the asari’s crest in reassurance, feeling that concern dissipate into the general sleepiness she felt ever since Athena’s birth. Athena herself was half asleep while suckling, oblivious to the wild gestures and boisterous conversation going on around them.

Tali, in particular, had been using the last few minutes to vent about Quarian politics; a frustrated expression on her face behind the new more translucent face mask preferred by their species since they’d developed a better resistance to disease.

“It’s like he thinks we don’t know that all that tax income is being squirreled away somewhere for him to use in drumming up support for yet another tax!” she exclaimed. “Between his outright graft and the fines from the police force on anyone for so much as walking on the wrong side of the street, Kato'Jomm has managed to make life in the flotilla look like a charming getaway!”

Garrus leaned back on the bench and draped an arm around her shoulders, dextro drink dangling from his other hand where it rested over a knee, lifting and falling to punctuate his words. “We have a saying on Palaven. A fine is a tax for doing something wrong and a tax is a fine for doing something right. Either way, everyone’s feeling the pinch.”

“Well,” Shepard pointed out, “The Quarian government is kinda on the hook for infrastructure on a planetary scale, right? I mean, they have to get the credits from somewhere.”

Garrus caught her smirk while she was saying it, one of his mandibles twitching as the comment had the desired effect; which was to say, spinning Tali up just for the hell of it until she called one or both of them Bosh’tets. It was a private game between her and Garrus and the Turian was winning since they’d arrived with a score of 12-10.

Tali growled, a puff of indignant breath fogging up her faceplate for a moment, “We’ve practically got free labor thanks to the Geth, you _know_ that! And it’s not like they’re trying to cover the whole planet in plasticrete! We’ve just got to ...”

“Wait,” Shepard interrupted, “Just how long do you think the Geth will keep helping you on the labor front? Don’t they have their own things to do?” she added with a questioning look at Garrus.

“Oh they still get plenty done,” he said with admiration, “At the end of their Rannoch workday they just log out of their bodies planetside and zoom back to spend the rest of their time working on the mothership.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed. “Why don’t they just stay until the job’s done?”

“Probably don’t want to be fined over a noise ordinance,” Tali snorted before pulling hard on her emergency induction port.

“The Geth are individuals, now, remember?” Liara reminded everyone calmly while pulling Athena up to her shoulder to burp with soft taps of her hand. “Have you asked them?”

Shepard sighed, “I don’t think I could bring myself to talk to them. I know it’s not fair, it’s just..every time I hear them speak I think of Legion.”

“Even more reason you should, then” Liara chided before offering the small bundle of sleeping blue baby to her. “She needs changed, would you mind?”

“Sure,” she replied with a wide grin before pulling their daughter close enough to nuzzle her tiny nose. She’d spent the better part of a day just watching her breathe when she was born, utterly fascinated by the life she’d helped to create. While it was likely she’d grow tired of the daily tasks surrounding her care, that day was far, far away.

As she stood Garrus deftly redirected. “You know, for individuals,” Garrus pointed out in his familiar purring way, “They seem to make awfully similar decisions. It’s not like a few of them hang around and check out the nightlife after work. They all leave, every time.”

Shepard shrugged, gently swaying the child in her arms, “Their processing power increases with proximity, right? Maybe they just like being together for that since they have a choice.”

“That’s fair,” Garrus said agreeably, “But what are they _doing_ with all that processing power I wonder? They’ve put up no new bases as far as I know and have disassembled half their fleet.”

She just chuckled before heading inside, offering over her shoulder, “Definitely suspicious behavior!”

Athena’s eyes opened a sliver as Shepard reached behind herself to close the door and when her hand returned to support the child, her face broke into a smile so beautiful that she stopped in her tracks to marvel at it.

“Well, hello there,” Shepard whispered in a sing-song voice, running the pad of her thumb across Athena’s forehead. “So nice of you to join us this morning.”

Tiny blue hands stretched out while she made unintelligible sounds, her limbs unsteady but enthusiastic, and Shepard slid a finger into one until she felt even tinier fingers grip it.

She sang a song to her then, swinging that tiny hand to and fro as they walked down a hallway and into the nursery, a song she recalled from her own childhood.

“Little chin, little mouth, little eye, little brow, cheek and nose, cheep, cheep, my little rooster!”

She kept singing as she changed her, pausing to touch each part she mentioned until, well, her hands weren’t clean enough to do so. She pointed instead, and the song had Athena’s eyes wide in wonder, her mouth in a shocked O shape at the sound. After a few moments she sobered and leaned down, their faces just a few inches away while they gazed into each other’s green eyes. The complexity of emotions she felt, just looking at her daughter, were too much for words. Joy, gratitude, hope, fear, worry...none of them could do it justice. She wished she could communicate with Athena the way Liara could; maybe see what she was seeing and feeling from her own perspective. Shepard had no idea what was in store for her daughter or what kind of life she’d lead but she was very aware that this moment between them, this moment _right here_ in all its perfection would never come again no matter how hard she held onto it; which made her savor it passionately even as it slipped away.

She could hear conversation near the house entrance now as well as some sharp words from Garrus out back. It sounded like he was scolding one of his children, though, so she paid it no mind. Nevertheless, she left Athena safe and sound on the changing table while she padded to the front door on bare feet. She wasn’t _sneaking_ , per se, but not all of the guests that had come over the past couple of days were actually on the guest list, so she paused for a moment behind a corner, tilting her head around it to see who it was before announcing herself.

“Jack!” she said with surprise when she recognized the biotic, then strode into the foyer to greet her. “You made it!” She nodded to the asari aide who’d admitted her, then embraced her old friend with gusto.

“Heyyyy,” Jack returned in a low voice, her arms strong around her before pulling back. “Sorry I’m late, looks like I missed the party.” She pulled her pack off a shoulder to reach in and pull out a furry pyjak doll, tilting it back and forth playfully with a wry chuckle. “Congrats and all. Bucket list item checked.”

Shepard scoffed. “Cynic. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” She put a rough arm around Jack’s shoulders and realized she had to lift her arm above her own shoulder to do it as they walked back down the hall. “So how does it feel to be taller than me?” she asked ruefully.

Jack was softly stroking the fur on the pyjak when she asked, and turned to grin at her. “Pretty damn good. Some people even believe it when I say I’ll destroy them!”

Shepard broke into laughter at that, then turned Jack left into the nursery and brought them to a stop.

Jack set down her bag and walked over to the table where Athena was kicking her feet randomly into the air. She considered her very seriously, hands in the pockets of her jacket before finally speaking.

“I am so...so sorry, kid,” she began. “You’ve got the biggest…” Jack couldn’t stop herself from laughing before she even finished, “Girl scout of a mother..hahahah...that ever…”

“Hey!” Shepard laughed before balling up a fist to punch Jack in the shoulder.

“No for real!” she exclaimed to more punches and laughter, still talking in the direction the squirming child while they tussled, “You’re gonna be a decade into puberty before you even know there’s an outside world! Torture! Non-stop straight-laced perfectly proper torture!”

“Well,” Shepard said with a grin and one final punch, “ _Your_ auntie privileges are revoked, that’s for damn sure!”

“Ehem,” Jack corrected with a raised index finger, “Godmother privileges, you mean. Someone’s gotta take her in when she runs away from this paper mache paradise and teach her how to live in the real world.”

With utter disbelief on her face she held up her own hand, “Wait, did you just say you want to be her godmother? Are you high?” Then she remembered how fondly Miranda spoke of children when she found out Liara was pregnant. “Or is this coming from Lawson?”

In all the years she’d known the woman she’d never seen her expression change so drastically. Her face deflated like a switch had been turned off and her shoulders fell until Jack’s natural pride kicked in and straightened her back like a rod. Shepard felt immediately guilty despite being completely innocent.

“Hey,” she started, “What’s wrong?”

Jack’s eyes met hers directly, ignoring her words as if they were never spoken. “Is she here?”

“No. I uh...figured you’d be coming together,” she said in a low voice before her brain caught up. “Oh,” she breathed then, feeling stupid and sad all at the same time, “Damn.” She watched Jack’s jaw clench before she responded.

“It’s fine,” she spat, “I’m just...surprised she didn’t show.”

“Yeah,” she replied absentmindedly, “Didn’t answer my call either. Must’ve gotten held up or something.” Shepard gathered Athena into her arms and turned to her friend once again. “Come on, come say hi to the others. You want a drink?”

“Sure,” she replied with a spurious curl of her lips. “You have a bar?”

“Oh, I can have one made for you. Whattaya like?”

“Just...take me to the bar.” When Shepard crooked a brow, Jack huffed and waved a hand. “It’s not like that. Just wanna see what Thessia has to offer, is all.”

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “You seemed to like the Red last time,” she offered before walking back toward the main gathering room.

Jack said nothing in response and Shepard imagined that meant she was making some kind of face at her. She spun between two steps, holding Athena aloft for the smile she knew it would create on her daughter’s face as well as a sly peek at Jack’s impudent expression but it wasn’t there. Her face was pensive, almost tender as she watched her every move.

“Wine’s not my thing,” the woman explained simply before quickening her steps. They crossed the great room together, Jack still just studying her until they reached the sculpted shelving that housed richly gleaming bottles of liquid. As diverting a target as they were, though, she paused with a finger on the cabinet door and words on her lips.

“You seem….happy, Shep. Like...happy like I’ve never seen ya.”

Somehow the way she said it struck Shepard speechless. The truth of the observation notwithstanding, it felt like a betrayal to admit it in light of Jack’s distress.

“Yeah,” she said after a gentle clearing of her throat. “No question.”

Jack had the cabinet open then and was thumbing bottles to and fro until she stopped and snickered. “Oooh. Lookie!” She reached in deeper and pulled out an old, beaten up Carnifex that never left Shepard’s side during the war.

Shepard grinned crookedly and shrugged. “What can I say? Happy doesn’t mean oblivious.”

“Too fucking ri..” Jack started, then bit her lip in consternation. “Sorry,” she began again, looking at the newborn. “Too right, is what I meant.” She shoved the dull metal of the pistol back in the recesses of the cabinet where it belonged and came back out with a bottle. She held it back a bit to read the label but quickly gave up trying to read the Asari script. “This any good?”

“Dunno, let me smell?” After Jack unstoppered the bottle and held it for a sniff she recoiled. “Uh...no. Definitely don’t like that one.”

Jack’s brow arched with curiosity and she took a whiff herself. “What is it? Smells like…” she took another sniff, ”Amaretto and….licorice?”

“Beats me,” Shepard replied with fondness. “Bring it along and we’ll see.”

There was a chorus of happy hellos when the gang saw Jack follow Shepard onto the porch and even the children running wild through the garden returned to see what the fuss was about. Jack just lifted a hand in greeting but her smile was bright and genuine. She took a large leaning step forward to place the pyjak in Liara’s lap and Shepard watched her face light up at the gift.

“They are so much cuter when they’re stuffed, don’t you think?” Liara said, lifting the toy to wave it’s monkey-like arms.

“Well,” Jack quipped, “They aren’t running around stealing your crap this way at least.” As the chuckles began she looked at Shepard’s wife sincerely. “Congratulations Liara. She’s beautiful.”

“She most certainly is,” the asari said with pride. “Thank you, Jack. It’s good to see you again.”

“Babe,” Shepard interjected softly while she rocked the sleeping child, “Jack had a question you can answer better than I can.”

Liara turned her face back up to Jack, who produced the bottle.

“Yeah, can you tell me what this is?”

She tilted her head to the side in order to see the label before her. “That’s called Rakomelo. Have you had it before?”

“Nope,” Jack said simply. “Any good?”

“It’s better when consumed in colder weather. We usually warm the liquor and mix it with various spices…”

But Jack was already taking a swig of the stuff, and both of Liara’s brows lifted in surprise and affront, her lips parted mid-word.

“It is laced with eezo as are many beverages on Thessia, but thankfully that won’t harm _you_ ,” Liara continued with a smirk. “Was there something in particular you were looking for? I can make other recommendations.”

“Yeah,” Jack said with a nod while licking her lips. “Something not so sweet, I think. Something for summer maybe?”

Tali was taken aback, “You’re actually pairing your alcohol with seasons now? I can’t tell if that means you’re drinking way too much or have gotten more discerning with your poisons.”

Jack just grinned, “Oh it’s not really for me, although this,” she said while holding the bottle up, “Isn’t too bad. It’s for Grunt, so he’s gonna want the strong stuff. And...” she continued with a chuckle, “It’s always summer on Tuchanka, right?”

Liara was looking decidedly thoughtful. “That’s good of you to visit him. I think I have just the thing.” She got up from her chair despite Shepard’s cautious look and headed inside.

“How’s Omega treating you?” Garrus asked politely as she departed, “You’ve gotten along with Aria longer than just about anyone I know.”

“That’s because just about everyone else sharing you and her as an acquaintance is dead,” Jack joked with a snort.

He looked offended at first before he got thoughtful. Everyone was already laughing at the change in his expression before he shrugged and joined in. “When you’re right you’re right, heheh,” he said before giving a cautioning glance at the children waiting in the wings. It wouldn’t do to start talking about Archangel’s exploits in their company.

Jack seemed to take the hint which was a sign of maturity Shepard noted with appreciation. “She’s alright, really. You just gotta figure out her moods.”

“I never took you for the sort of person who could take orders from anyone but Shepard, here.” Tali added. “But you’ve been there quite a while. Does that mean Omega is your home now or do you have something else on the horizon?”

Liara stepped back out onto the patio as Tali was asking the question, different bottle in hand, and Jack took a deep breath before answering. “I think that depends on how my visit goes,” she said cryptically, her face brightening as she purposefully turned to acknowledge the two Turian and two Quarian children who were beginning to lose focus and pester one another. “Reegar,” she said, and the oldest of the four turned his head. “I got a little something for you guys in my pack. You wanna go have a look? It’s in the nursery.”

There was happy shrieking at her words and a stampede headed through the door Liara hadn’t quite gotten closed, the Asari stepping deftly out of the way.

“Hey bud,” Jack said with a raised voice, and Reegar paused again before following, “Keep them inside for awhile, will ya? Got some adult stuff to discuss out here.”

“You got it,” he said through his helmet, chest puffed at being put in charge.

When Liara closed the door again, every eye was on Jack.

“So…..” she began, the intense scrutiny unnerving her. She straightened and motioned for Liara to take her seat back, which she did, then looked directly at Shepard. “So you remember when Grunt asked you to come mediate over Wrex’s killing?”

Shepard nodded, everything clicking. “Are you taking my place?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding a bit dubious about the whole thing before noticing the quickly masked looks of doubt that flashed on unguarded faces. “And yeah, I _know_ the whole ‘shiny happy people’ thing isn’t exactly my gig,” she added, her expression wrinkling defensively,  “So I was hoping to get some tips before I go.”

“I think you’re going to be great,” Tali injected to questioning stares. “From what I’ve seen, every attempt to talk diplomatically with the Krogan has failed because bureaucrats in suits can simply never _understand_ giant lizard men whose mating partners look for the highest body count during courtship ,” she explained. “You can.”

Jack’s face froze in a lopsided grin, “I’m….gonna take that as a compliment.”

“This is still a complex issue,” Liara cautioned in the neutral fashion asari seemed to be born with. “Has a date been set for the meeting? Where is it being held?”

Jack just shrugged. “I’m assuming they’ll tell me when I get there. What do you know about these guys. Clan...Dulak, right?”

Liara nodded, her eyes dropping in thought before rising to meet Jack’s. “They are an old clan that had prominence in the Krogan Rebellions. Their leader, Martak, was a strong opponent of Wrex’s during the Reaper Reconciliation, but curing the genophage won him over as it did many others. It is unclear why he would’ve wanted Wrex dead, but later intelligence on Krogan intrapolitics weakened with their unification.”

“Something something Krogan _what_?”

Shepard grinned and shook her head, “Once everyone rallied behind Wrex they had less reason to sell each other out to information brokers, so we don’t have as much information about what’s going on.”

“Martak’s death in the attack on Wrex further complicates matters,” Liara continued. “The assumption is that he had the full support of his clan and this was the first strike in an attempted coup. If negotiations are being discussed, however, this may not be the case.”

“Or it is,” Garrus added with a pointed talon before turning to Jack. “They could be using these talks as a distraction while they set up their next strike.”

“Very Turian thing to do, isn’t it?” Shepard smirked.

He held up his hands in response and shrugged, “You can’t argue with success. Now,” he said with self-importance as he returned his gaze to Jack, “Here’s the important part. If the talks are a setup then Dulak is going to want to kill everyone Urdnot sends to the meet. Likewise, Urdnot is gonna be ready to kill them right back. My suggestion is to go in there with a plan B.”

“Plan B,” Jack huffed, “On Tuchanka. Isn’t that just putting your face between your legs and kissing your ass goodbye?”

“Having the meeting on Tuchanka would heavily weight the success of any kind of altercation in Urdnot’s favor,” Liara dissented thoughtfully. “You would likely be safe there. My guess is attempts will be made by Dulak to move the talks offworld.”

“So meeting anywhere but Tuchanka is bad,” Jack said with an almost question mark.

“Not necessarily,” Tali said, “You know how prideful the Krogan are. I mean, let’s say you were the head of Clan Dulak. If you go to Tuchanka it’s pretty much admitting guilt, right? What would you do?”

Jack went quiet, her dark eyes turned inward as she considered the question. She turned and paced the length of the porch before coming to a conclusion, her words addressing the lush and swaying branches of the garden trees. “I’d want to meet in a neutral place where I’m just as much a threat as they are...whether I was guilty or not. I’m not gonna put my head on the chopping block if there’s even a chance some asshole with an axe might get pissy.”

“That’s right,” Shepard confirmed. “And I know none of this actually answers your question, but it’s a good exercise. This is exactly the kind of thing you’ll have to deal with, wherever you end up. You’ve got good instincts, Jack. Put yourself in their shoes if you have questions and use your experiences on the Normandy as a guide. Remember, sometimes you have to earn their cooperation. Above all, protect yourself and....” she smiled amiably, “Call us if you get into trouble.”

“I’m sure that’ll be a big help when bullets fly,” Jack spat, and Shepard flinched before she could stop herself. Jack turned to them both, eyes narrowed. “Grunt’s gonna wanna know when you’re coming. What should I tell him?”

Liara stood then with a straightness in her back and a feral eye. “If it comes to that, you remind him that his people demanded a very high price to save their hides five years ago. They can give us a few weeks.” As if to soften the blow, she extended the other bottle to Jack. “This is called Siporo. It’s usually diluted with other ingredients for flavor as it’s quite strong on its own. It’s almost 200 years old, a brand of the highest quality and is not easy to procure. Drinking it in one sitting would be a waste, in my opinion. I hope he takes this in the spirit in which it’s offered, which is with our humble regrets.”

Her stance said nothing of regret and everything of fierce defensiveness as far as Shepard could see, though the pride she felt at the sight didn’t diminish the guilt overmuch.

The biotic took the bottle and locked eyes with the Asari for a long moment before nodding with a sullen respect. “Alright, Blue. I’ll tell him.”

Jack’s comment still nagging her, Shepard chewed her lower lip and looked down at the child in her arms. The Shepard that once was screamed and beat at walls built of everything she ever wanted, demanding she do something; but she nailed another deadbolt in that door even as every pound of the hammer felt like it was piercing her own flesh. What more could she do? She’d spent more emotional capital in the war than she ever hoped to possess and now, just when she was getting in the black, she should just abandon it for a fight that wasn’t even hers? She’d retired. She was a relic being happily surpassed by the young and by technology so advanced it could scarcely have been imagined. It was their turn.

“Look,” Shepard offered with more conviction than she felt, “Let us know where the talks are gonna be and I can make sure there’s an angel on your shoulder.”

Jack looked offended at the idea. “You think they’re gonna want Spectres hanging over this thing?? I go in there with Williams on my wing they’ll think I’m dancing to a fucking Council tune. Thanks, but no thanks.”

She was storming toward the door when Shepard slid between her and it. “Hey,” she said reasonably, “I’m trying to help. Really.”

Jack paused and dropped her eyes before shaking her head. She lifted it again to look Shepard in the eye. “I get it. You got your thing going and I get it, but you know what they’re asking for here, right? They don’t trust Williams. Hell, _I_ don’t trust Williams, no matter what patch the Council puts on her chest. They trust _you_. You get that?”

“Yeah,” she replied lamely, “But I’m not going to be here forever. In the end this is an internal fight. I’m glad you’re going, Jack; but in the long run they have to be able to handle their own affairs. If they call in an outsider every time they have a disagreement it undermines their authority.”

“God dammit, you don’t get it!” Jack said loudly, and Athena woke with a cry. She pointed back and forth between herself and Shepard with a demonstrative finger, “We’re the only ones that _aren’t_ outsiders to them! That’s the reason we _have_ to help, right fucking now, because god help us all if they figure out they don’t need us. The Krogan gotta trust us moving forward or whoever ends up in charge might end up looking at us as obstacles rather than friends. Is that what you want?”

Shepard rocked Athena to soothe her, the recognition of the truth only bolstering the voice shouting inside her. She moved out of the way silently and shook her head, letting Jack brush by her into the coolness of the house.

“That wasn’t really fair of her,” Tali said gently after a moment of painful silence. “In a thousand years, all the trust in the world for you and Jack means nothing. The Council does need to be involved.”

“The kid’s got a point though,” Garrus chimed with an impressed look, “If this were any other situation I’d agree with you but we’re talking about Wrex. Wrex maintained control because he was a hero of the war, but it wasn’t too long ago that everyone but Urdnot was an enemy of his. If they’re asking for outside help it may be because they don’t expect an orderly transition. Who knows what kind of psychopath might end up on the throne?”

“And I’m supposed to what, enforce the succession?” Shepard asked incredulously. “If the Krogan people decide they don’t want Urdnot in charge it doesn’t matter who’s asking. I have no desire to be a kingmaker.”

“Even if failing to act means a war with the Krogan?” Liara interjected at a near whisper.

She looked at Liara in shock, the unspoken suggestion being that perhaps she should help, after all. The idea appeared to make her wife as miserable as she felt, at least. Shepard tilted her head in question, lifting a hand palm-up to punctuate, but Liara only dropped her eyes. She sighed then, and moved to the Asari’s side to gently pass Athena to her waiting arms.

When she straightened, her eyes were lost in thought. “I need to take a walk,” she said, and no one gainsaid her.

Her entry to the house was interrupted by Tali and Garrus’ littlest family member, a Turian female named Aurelia. The 6 year old whooped and nearly plowed into Shepard while aiming a holographic pistol at Reegar, who dove unceremoniously behind a couch. All Shepard could see though was the age and historical significance of items scattered around the living room, not to mention their fragility.

“Oh no,” she started, then raised her voice, “Okay everyone, take this outside!”

Children came out from hiding places, panting and smiling from the exertion. “You should play too!” One said, and another waved around their new toy, shouting, “Jack got us the new Armax 2600’s!”

Shepard couldn’t help but smile and shake her head in appreciation. She never thought she’d like kids, if she were honest. Funny how you get like that when a single mistake could wreck everything and everyone. There was something about children she never factored into the equation, though, and that was simple, honest exuberation.

“I promise I’ll join in when I get back. Tell you what? I’ll even let you all team up. How’s that sound?”

The cheering as they ran outside soothed her mood until she made it to the nursery looking for Jack. Her pack was gone...but the toy packaging wasn’t. It was strewn about the room in pieces, and Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Jack?” she called, heading back into the main room, but there was no answer. She turned to the front door and headed outside, but didn’t see the woman brooding there as she would have expected. Jack was gone.

“Well, shit,” was her reply to an unsympathetic world.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

“Hey Jack,” Shepard said into her Omni while she walked, “Where’d you go? I’m not sure why you left but call me when you get this. We aren’t finished.” A slow release of breath through her nose after she disconnected calmed her enough to let her feet lead her in a large circle through the forested estate grounds.

The curated copses appeared to be arranged to draw the eye into their depths, with footpaths and secluded seating areas where one could best appreciate a particular rock formation or listen to the sound of water. Paths meandering through areas with unsure footing sported clever stairs carved from natural rock and even miniature bridges over cuts in the earth; all guiding the observer so gently that no effort was required for anything but the contemplative thoughts that brought them there in the first place. The birds and insects may have sounded completely different on this world,  but after a period of adjustment Shepard found them as pleasant as they’d ever been on Earth. It was, best of all, completely secluded and she’d spent many an hour moving quietly through the sun and shade; her destination always the silence of her inner self.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually made it, but spinning uselessly around in your mind did get boring after awhile. Boring enough that she’d eventually go inside and do something about whatever was bothering her. _Probably not what the T’Sonis envisioned when they built the place_ , she realized, which made her smile.

45 minutes or so of that spinning brought her back around to the house where she saw several vehicles crowding the drive. Her pace picked up to a jog, mind going far too quickly to bad conclusions, but she quickly recognized the badges of Council Security on people mulling about and it wasn’t long before she spotted Councilor Tevos as well as Liara’s father, Aethyta, making a slow walk toward their door, surrounded by staff.

When Tevos saw her she slowed and smiled that Mona Lisa smile Shepard had come to know so well. They approached one another and nodded in greeting, words as careful as their perpetual confidence dictated.

“Shepard,” the Asari said with warmth.

“Tevos,” Shepard replied, self-consciously zipping up the faded N7 hoodie she only wore when playing hermit-in-the-house. “I didn’t expect you to come in person. Welcome.”

“As luck would have it I was already on planet for other business,” she replied before Aethyta, in poignant contrast, threw protocol to the wind with a hug that pulled Shepard to the tips of her toes.

“Heya kiddo! Congratulations! You pulled it off!”

Shepard couldn’t help but hug her back and laugh as she was set back down, “I uh...think your daughter did most of the work there, Dad, but thanks just the same.”

“How is Liara?” Tevos asked.

Shepard smiled and gestured toward the front door, then fell in step with the Councilor. “She’s doing well. Been sore for a couple days but her physician says everything’s fine.”

Tevos nodded, shifting a wrapped gift from arm to arm before following Shepard inside, her staff settling outside to allow privacy. Once the door closed she spoke. “She is very young. That may be both the cause and the cure for what ails her.”

Shepard nodded, the advice nearly identical to the physician’s. “She’ll be delighted to see you both,” she said, motioning through the great room to the back porch. Aethyta headed off to see her daughter, but when Tevos didn’t move, Shepard turned to meet her expectant gaze.

Tevos watched her for a long moment before speaking. “I prevaricated when I mentioned I had other business on Thessia, and I must apologize for intruding on this most intimate of times for your family. The truth is, you are the business that brought me here.”

Shepard’s eyes widened. “I’m the business, huh?” She crossed her arms defensively while her mind worked. There was only one thing that would bring the likes of Tevos to her door. “I think I already know what you are going to ask and the answer is no. I’m not going to Tuchanka.”

Tevos smiled softly. “The internal conflict the Krogan are experiencing is troubling, yes,” she began, but Shepard was shaking her head over and over in refusal until the Asari stopped speaking altogether.

A moment later Tevos tried again, this time with a steel undertone, “I need you to hear me.”

“I’m sorry you wasted a trip, Councilor. I’m not changing my mind.”

“Shepard,” she began a third time, eyes hardening uncharacteristically. “This is not about the Krogan.”

She blinked, her arms loosening themselves in surprise. “Alright. What’s going on?”

Once Tevos seemed satisfied that she was listening, her chin lowered a bit from its imperious height. “There is much to relay. May we sit?”

“Of course. This way.” She started striding down a hallway toward the library before bringing herself up short. “You’ve come a long way,” she mused, “You need anything? I could use a drink, I think.”

“Yes, please,” came the tired reply from someone who normally seemed immune to fatigue.

With a smile Shepard moved to the bar, pouring a glass of Thessian wine for Tevos and a scotch neat for herself before leading the august leader back to a room that smelled of dust and paper despite being immaculate.

Tevos paid her surroundings little mind, settling readily into a chair and putting the package in her lap so she could accept the proffered glass.

When Shepard took a chair opposite her, Tevos began. “I know you have refused to share,” she said simply. “I’m asking you to reconsider. You would fully understand the challenges ahead.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed. “Is this about the Convergence?”

“Yes it is,” she replied while looking at Shepard hopefully. When she didn’t relent, Tevos tilted her head sadly, then added, “You haven’t put in a request for the cure. Why is that?”

She shrugged and took a sip of her 15 year old single malt. She could withdraw from the communal thoughtlink at will, unlike the rest of the affected members, which is why the cure was so important for them. “Didn’t seem necessary,” Was her only response.

Tevos nodded and relaxed pensively into her chair, drink untouched. “Allow me to bring you up to date, then, though I would remind you of your oath of secrecy on this matter.”

At Shepard’s nod she continued, “When the cure was first introduced, roughly a quarter million people departed the Convergence. It is a large number, until you take into account the fact that there were over 5 million people who survived the assault on the Citadel as well as the infection process. While there were some predictable issues with the dissemination of restricted information it was handled expediently.”

Shepard nodded again, remembering the string of disappearances and deaths that filled the news cycle a couple of years prior. While Liara all but confirmed they were Convergence related, Shepard now knew from the most reliable of sources that it was true.

“I thought for sure the cat was out of the bag,” Shepard admitted. “But the whole thing really did disappear. Don’t know how you managed it.”

“The deaths were unfortunate,” Tevos sighed regretfully, “But the example they set kept the rest of the excommunicated in line.” Her eyes met Shepard’s meaningfully, “Until now.”

Excommunicated. Shepard felt a deep sense of unease at the word. While a very precise description for the separation of someone from the groupthink, it rang harshly of negative religious connotations. “What’s happened?” she asked again, refusing to be distracted by personal bias.

Tevos spoke slowly, revealing a rare uncertainty in her expression. “As I mentioned, the percentage of those who elected for treatment is small when compared to those who chose to stay. They stayed...I stayed…because together we have helped achieve a level of peace and prosperity for the galaxy that hasn’t been seen before. As the date to the cure approached we found ourselves asking why it had to end?”

“Because everyone will eventually realize you’ve been manipulating Council policy using state secrets,” Shepard injected without pause. “When the galactic governments find out that their own people have given you peeks at their hand there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Yes,” Tevos agreed softly before sipping. “But the results are...compelling, don’t you think? Will the inevitable penalties for our actions be less if we disbanded? There’s much we can still accomplish.”

Shepard considered before answering, her eyes locked on the Asari’s. “When you were infected you had no choice but to carry on. The galaxy required leadership and you gave it. Continuing the charade after the cure is a choice, though, so...yes, I think the penalties would have been lessened if you stopped.”

“We disagree,” she said simply. “There are many in power, many whose secrets were used to produce favorable actions, who would be embarrassed by the knowledge of their complicity. Forgiveness is rare in politics, no matter how pure the motives may have been. In fact, we feel that if there is to be any protection for those involved in our activities it will originate most effectively from within the Convergence itself.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows but shrugged. “Look, I see what you’re saying, but you understand you’re setting yourselves up for a fight, right? If you don’t work with the authorities and admit what you’ve done you could be forced to defend yourself against every race in the galaxy. Not even five million people would fare well against those odds.”

Tevos was nodding all the while. “We considered that and have a plan. A plan that is now meeting some unanticipated complications.”

“Which is why you’re here.” Shepard posited with a rise of one brow while crossing her legs. “So?” she asked, punctuating the question with a hand, “What do you need from me?”

Tevos’ face turned toward the window as she spoke, the blueness of the light reflecting on her face only intensifying the radiant purple of her skin. “It was inevitable that someone, somewhere would begin to notice patterns belonging to a large group of disparate people performing similar activities across the galaxy. We had hoped to obfuscate our work until we were ready to announce what we’ve become, publicly, but it may have happened sooner than we liked.”

She turned to gaze at Shepard directly. “One of our highest level members, in charge of some of the more sensitive aspects of our activities has gone missing, Shepard, and I need you to find him.”

Shepards eyes narrowed in thought before confusion set in. Confusion and no little bit of humor. “You have over 5 million people who can communicate just by thinking and one of you still managed to get lost?”

Tevos’ lip curled disapprovingly. “Joke if you like, but the galaxy is a big place. There is a range outside of which sharing becomes impossible, as you well know.”

Shepard tempered the grin spreading across her cheeks. “Right, sorry. How long have they been missing? Is it possible they’ve just gotten stranded somewhere?”

The asari shook her head in the negative. “I wouldn’t have come to you if we hadn’t explored all other options. This isn’t a matter of someone taking a weekend for themselves or breaking down in a shuttle. He’s been missing for over two standard weeks from an urban location where there should be clues. There are none and that is worrying. We fear he’s been taken.”

“And you had no hint this person was wanting to leave the group via the share? Could they have just given themselves the cure?” As the Councilor shook her head again, Shepard pressed her. “You’re that sure?”

“Even if there were some way to deceive us through the share,” Tevos explained, her gaze steady, “There’s no chance he would do so.”

“Who is it? Anyone I know?”

“Yes. Former Councilor Valern.”

Shepard sucked in a breath, eyes widening as she took her own moment to look out the window. “As a former Councilor he’s got a permanently assigned security detail. They gone too?”

“Only one. Both he and Valern disappeared while they were on duty. You understand our concern.”

“Was the guard that also disappeared in the Convergence as well?”

“Correct.”

Worry wrinkled Shepard’s brow at that point. “It’s unlikely he could disappear like that without his security personnel’s knowledge…..or participation.” She turned, leveling a look at the woman again. “Have you considered that angle?”

“We have. The rest of them have been rigorously interviewed regarding their activities that day, and their reports have been verified.” There was something strange about the way the consummate politician uttered the final sentence. Something flat.

“Really?” She countered, letting the tingle in her guts that so rarely led her astray take her by the hand, “By whom?”

Tevos seemed pleased with her answer. She folded her hands across the the package in her lap, seemed to realize she’d forgotten to give it to her, set it on the table beside her, then grasped the arms of her chair with delicate hands. “This is the crux of the problem. Valern’s escort was entirely Salarian.”

That old sinking feeling was back. “Don’t tell me they were on Sur’Kesh.”

“They were, and that’s why we require your help in particular.”

Her eyes closed and she shook her head in frustration while saying, “So you think a former member of the Convergence spilled the beans and the Salarian government may be behind Valern’s disappearance?” She scoffed then in disbelief. “I’m not sure what I can do for you, Councilor, but I don’t think there’s a planet in the galaxy that would be less comfortable with my presence.” They both paused before Shepard added an embarrassed, “Well, maybe Khar’Shan, but you know...”

Tevos smiled softly and dropped her eyes with a sad nod of understanding before returning to topic. “Their government’s lack of cooperation isn’t a roadblock if the investigator is a Spectre.”

“Well, I can’t be the only Spectre in the Convergence, “ she protested. _There was another on the Citadel when it was taken, surely._ she thought to herself. _Yes, Jondum Bau, and he’s a Salarian to boot!_ But just as suddenly as his name came to mind she recalled him and his entire team throwing in with the war effort after she and Kasumi assisted him with the Hanar diplomats’ indoctrination. He wouldn’t have been onboard, after all.

“I’m afraid you are,” Was all the Asari said and from the look on her face Shepard could see she wished it were otherwise.

“You haven’t promoted any in 5 years?” Came her incredulous reply.

Tevos sighed patiently. “It’s not as simple as you suggest. Elections have been held for almost all Council positions in that time and while the Convergence maintained some of those seats we couldn’t keep them all. Valern’s replacement by Esheel is an example of that. There must be a vote for new Spectre applicants, as you undoubtedly recall, and circumstances are such that no Convergence members have been accepted.” She went silent for a moment, her head tilting compassionately. “I am truly sorry for this, but we have no other alternative.”

Now it was Shepard’s turn to sigh and she took another drink; a longer drink that burned the back of her throat. “What will you do if it’s true?” Shepard finally asked. “What if they know?”

Tevos met Shepard’s gaze for a long, long moment and she could feel the Asari’s concern radiating from her. “Things will become...complicated.”

Her wife had just pitched a fit to get her out of helping Grunt, an act that could have clear repercussions on the galaxy, and yet here she was considering intervening in another political shitshow. The thought made her stomach tie itself in knots.

She stood and paced to the window, fingertips massaging one temple. “I don’t appreciate being dragged into this. You can’t even legally call this a Spectre mission. I wouldn’t be working for the Council, I’d be working for you. Give me one good reason I should agree.”

The asari arched a brow reluctantly but after a moment under Shepard’s heavy stare seemed to resign herself to the answer. “Because you are one of us, Shepard. Once word gets out there will be widespread medical testing to find any remaining potential ‘agents’. You too will be held accountable, if not for direct activity on our behalf then for your silence.”

Shepard’s eyes flashed at the words and she felt that same temple begin to pound with anger.

Tevos saw it in her and held up a calming hand. “And yes, I understand why this is upsetting to you,” she said with a voice made of sweet cream. “Do you think I _want_ to give you ultimatums? This should be a day for celebration. A day to revel in the birth of your first child.” When she didn’t answer, Tevos added, “At least you have the opportunity to intervene, rather than react too late.”

Shepard looked away from her then and back out the window, preferring the vision of the wind through the branches to the face of the woman kicking down the front door of her paradise. “It sure sounds pretty late to me. Are there any resources on Sur’Kesh I can actually use?” she snapped. “Anyone I can contact for intel?”

She heard a sound of relief from behind her that was as close to a chuckle as she could recall hearing from the staid politician. “You’re not universally hated there, you know,” Tevos said with a touch of fondness. “There will always be people on the wrong side of history, but the Salarian people honor your accomplishments in the war just like everyone else.”

Her head swivelled to look at the Asari, irritation swelling nonetheless. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she growled.  

Tevos nodded and Shepard downed her drink, sucking on her lower lip audibly afterward. “Christ,” lifting an arm to prop against the vertical windowsill, “What am I gonna tell Liara?”

Tevos rose as well and smoothed her dress. “Perhaps you can start by saying that instead of saving an entire galaxy, you need only save one man.”

  


The Counselor didn’t stay but apparently Aethyta had. When Shepard stepped back outside she found the unflappable Asari commando sitting quietly as the grave before she felt Liara’s harsh glare turn to her instead.

“You agreed to this?” Liara asked with pain in her voice. “Why would you help them? If you had any defense to offer once the galaxy knows about them, it disappears the moment you accept Spectre status.”

Shepard had forgotten that Aethyta was a member of the Convergence, which meant she would have known about her talk with Tevos as it was happening, and the remembrance was like a splash of cold water. She turned to her father-in-law with narrowed eyes and asked, “Why did you tell her?”

Both of them spoke at once then, Aethyta in self-defence and Liara in attack.

“She’s my daughter _and_ a Shadow Broker….” Aethyta began.

“You’d have _kept_ this from me??” Liara cried.

Shepard shushed them both to keep Athena from waking, which didn’t improve any moods. “No...look...that’s not....” she started before running a hand through her hair. “Listen,” she tried again, “All I meant was I wanted the chance to talk to my _wife_ about this on my own, okay?” It was then she noticed that Tali and Garrus along with the kids were gone. Ignoring the pair of upset faces still regarding her she asked, “Where’d everybody go?”

“I told ‘em we had some private things to discuss,” Aethyta said flatly, “Proof I wasn’t netblasting the whole goddess blessed world?”

“They’ve gone to their rooms for naptime,” Liara chimed in with a look of barely soothed hurt. “Tali said the little ones were getting cranky, anyway.”

Shepard sat roughly in a chair and entwined her fingers with a sigh, only looking at Liara when she was ready to speak. “Honey, I’m in a tough spot here. If I’d known this was coming I’d have told all of them to take the cure and leave me out of it.”

Aethyta started to speak and Shepard spoke over her, “But since I didn’t have any choice in that I have to consider what’s best for this family, especially since everything we’ve done...everything _you’ve_ done, babe, has been to take scrutiny _away_ from us, to give us the space we need to raise Athena in peace and quiet. Do you really want to jump back into the spotlight with this bombshell? Or should I just do this _one_ thing to either protect us entirely or buy us the time we need to adjust?” She looked to Aethyta then even as she still spoke to her beloved. “Because I think Tevos is right. When the time comes to tally the cost I’m damned whether I act or not.”

“This isn’t what I wanted...what any of us wanted,” Aethyta regretfully intoned. “You gotta know that.”

Shepard’s lip curled wryly, “I know it wasn’t, and truth be told I could’ve kept in better contact. That being said,” she began, “Just what the hell are you guys doing? I would have thought you’d cure yourselves the second it became available.”

“That’s...tough to explain,” the Matriarch replied with a sideways glance at her daughter. “And I’m not sure how much you wanna to know, given the circumstances.”

“Is that a joke?” Liara asked with a bitter tone. “We need to know what we’re dealing with...what Shepard might encounter on Sur’Kesh, who she’s up against. We need to know everything, father.”

"That’s the Shadow Broker talking,” Aethyta grimaced, “But there’s still a few things you don’t know, little wing. That you can’t know.”

“And why is that?” Liara countered with suspicious eyes. “We aren’t the enemy. We wouldn’t ever hurt you, you know that. If you still can’t talk to us that means you’re doing something you probably shouldn’t.”

Aethyta pursed her lips and shook her head. “Not something we shouldn’t. Something you’re just not ready for. Not yet.”

“I think we’re able to make that decision for ourselves,” Shepard said calmly.

“Great,” Aethyta huffed, “Share when you’re ready. Then _you_ can explain it to her.”

“Why do you two keep asking that when you already know my answer!” Shepard exclaimed. “What’s so damned important that you can’t just tell us?”

“Because I don’t have a damn year to walk you through it, that’s why!” Aethyta answered. “There’s layers here, Shepard. Layers and layers and if you don’t see it all you don’t see it _at_ all.” She looked back and forth between them. “Do you trust me? Have I done anything to make you doubt my intentions?” When they didn’t answer in the affirmative she continued, “What I _can_ tell you is that what we're doing is mind blowing. It’s galaxy changing and it can belong to you, both of you....if you just reach out and take it!”

“Father,” Liara said after a moment of consideration, “You know what you sound like, don’t you?”

“What’s that?”

“A dust peddler. A madwoman. Some kind of...cultist. If it were me you were trying to convince I’d have even more doubts about sharing than before.”

Her father’s eyes hardened, but she chuckled just the same. “And you wonder why I kept quiet.”

“Look,” Shepard interjected impatiently, “Just...give me whatever you have on Valern and whoever you suspect gave him up. Can we start there? If he’s been gone two weeks we may not have much time left.”

“You’ll get what you need as soon as you accept reinstatement, which should already be in your box,” she said tersely, jaw working in frustration. “Let me know if you have any other questions or need resources of any kind and I’ll make it happen.”

Shepard met Liara’s heavy gaze and could feel her worry from three feet away. She put all of the love she had for the woman into her eyes and they shared it between between them, letting it outgrow the sad, foreboding sense of deja-vu that filled the air. “It’s okay babe,” she said lightly, “How hard could this be? I either find him or I don’t.”

Aethyta rose from her seat, ostensibly to give them their space, but Shepard stopped her with a hard look. “Oh no. You’re not going anywhere,” she said.

“Is that right?” came the doubtful reply.

“Yeah, it is,” she said firmly while returning her eyes to Liara’s blue ones. “I’m gonna go find your Councilor and you’re gonna stay here and help your daughter figure out how the hell to get us out of what’s coming down on your head.”

Liara nodded, turning to her father with analytical concern. "Yes," she agreed, "It appears we have a great deal to discuss."

The aged commando sat back down and Shepard stood to prepare.

 


End file.
